


wretched and divine

by iridescence (10softbot)



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Anarchy, Arson, Blood and Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Government Conspiracy, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Objectification, Permanent Injury, Polyamory, Strangers to Lovers, physical assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27408010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10softbot/pseuds/iridescence
Summary: The kingdom of god is inside you and all around you, not in a mansion of wood and stone. Split a piece of wood and god is there; lift a stone and you will find god.This is the story of the wild ones, the exiled rebels who fight to regain control and make the world theirs again.
Relationships: Choi Chanhee | New/Ji Changmin | Q, Choi Chanhee | New/Ji Changmin | Q/Kim Sunwoo, Choi Chanhee | New/Kim Sunwoo, Ji Changmin | Q/Kim Sunwoo
Comments: 25
Kudos: 111





	wretched and divine

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** The following work contains depictions of violence and physical assault. There are implications that Chanhee is physically assaulted and sexually harassed, though neither are explicitly said by Chanhee himself or talked about by any of the characters. There are several references to anxiety and depression throughout the entire work. Explicit sexual content is set in three different parts of the story. The permanent injury tag refers to a scar Eric has on his face. Kevin and Jacob are in an estabilished relationship as well as Juyeon and Eric, but neither are deeply explored in the plot. If any of this makes you uncomfortable or triggers you, I kindly ask you to click out of this work and find something else that might be more suitable for you.
> 
> This story is inspired by and named after the album Wretched and Divine by Black Veil Brides. If you want to get the feeling of the story beforehand or as you read it, I highly recommend listening to it.
> 
> [Listen to the album on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/album/0wcIOEo1iicfaxxCRgULOO?si=sS8FCSPrRk2NEQLDE1S0NA)  
> [Visual thread of characters](https://twitter.com/changminize/status/1300439722909630464)
> 
> **This is a work of fiction. Do not translate or repost without permission.**

The sound of raindrops tapping against the pavement is one Changmin has grown to detest over the past ten or so years of his life. If he thinks too hard about it, he can feel the bittersweet taste of his memories on his tongue, though they are now more frayed and faded than they were a year ago.

He remembers being five and running out of the front door despite his mother’s insistent yelling at him not to, remembers the chills and goosebumps that followed the splash of cold rainwater against his skin, remembers the joyous giggle that bubbled up his chest as he splashed pools of water on other neighborhood children. That’s how Changmin remembers happiness feeling like – his mother taking him in her arms and running back inside, heavy rain now tapping against the single window in their room.

Changmin now calls happiness living in blissful ignorance.

He hasn’t felt happiness in the past ten years or so of his life.

He wishes he could have known then, could have understood sooner why he would often hear his mother’s faint weeping at bedtime, why she would reprimand him for tearing up his clothes while playing around, why he was never to be outside at nightfall. He wishes he could have known sooner why his mother never came home one rainy night; couldn’t understand why she would leave him to cry himself to sleep for days until he had no more tears left to cry.

Changmin knows better now, years later. His mother was only trying her best to provide him as much as she could on her own – a thief, captured and killed by the government. Now, as he feels the light tapping of raindrops on his cheek, soaking up his only passable jacket, Changmin can’t help but wish he could light up the sky on fire.

Watching the scenery change and the streets light up with life would be one of his favorite things in the world if he didn’t have to quell his anger every time. Seeing big, expensive cars lined up against the curb does little to help his case, makes bile rise in his stomach as he wonders how any of this is fair – how some people are allowed to have so much when others have so little. It’s the bitter taste of living in a world with so little regard for other people’s lives that keeps him up at night, that gets him out of bed in the morning in hopes he will achieve something his mother never could.

He doesn’t consider himself a big dreamer, but for one night – just for tonight, he will lie to himself and believe that he can.

Just for tonight he will allow himself to walk into a bar, months of savings crumpled up in his jacket’s pocket – barely enough to afford a single drink, but he will allow himself the luxury of enjoying the night. _Just for one night,_ he repeats in his head like a broken record, like he isn’t broken himself.

Before drizzle turns to pouring, Changmin finds shelter past the doors of a pub. He feels stunned for a second, trying to take in the neon lights adorning the walls and the light jazz music playing from the speakers, the heated floor warming up his freezing cold toes through the soles of his beat-up sneakers. He has never been to a place like this before, his only trips to this part of town only consisting of deliveries every now and then, the pub environment so unfamiliar he feels extremely out of place.

Maybe it’s the soft clinking of glass or the several men in suits littering the place, or the way he no longer feels cold for the first time in what feels like years. Maybe it is the side glances he notices being cast his way, or the understanding laced with pity that fills the bartender’s eyes when he makes himself comfortable at the bar. Changmin knows that look – finds familiarity in it, having come across so many people from the working class as he tries to survive another day, just like everyone else.

His stomach growls, makes pain spread through his abdomen, and he does his best to pay it no mind.

“Can I get you anything?” the boy standing behind the bar asks, like he is expecting Changmin to say no. He looks like he could be Changmin's age, tall and slender, his round eyes so tired it makes Changmin wonder how long he has been doing this for – taking money from the rich, pitying the poor while knowing he himself isn’t far better off. “I can’t let you sit here if you don’t.”

Changmin's eyes flit from his face to a sheet of paper glued to the wall, right behind his back, clearly not there for the rich. Changmin shoves his hands in his pockets, pulls out the few crumpled bills he has and slides them over the counter, feeling his cheeks heat up just slightly in embarrassment. The boy sighs, deep and heavy, reaching for the money and shoving it in his pocket without so much as counting.

He dips under the bar and disappears for a while, and Changmin takes the chance to look at his surroundings once again. There are more patrons filling the small space than it did when he first walked in, the murmured chatter all but background noise against the unfamiliar tune coming from the speakers. He looks over to the small stage at the far back of the pub, to the men helping someone roll in an old-looking piano, setting up a stool and microphone right beside it.

The soft sound of glass hitting stone makes his head turn again. Where his money once was, Changmin now finds a glass filled with rocks of ice. His eyes almost glisten as he watches the boy behind the bar pour what must be a shot of whiskey into it, and then some more, and more – until his glass is almost filled to the brim, and Changmin finds the need to argue with him.

“Don’t mention,” the boy says, beating him to it, and Changmin closes his mouth once again in mild embarrassment. “You look like you need it.”

“Thanks,” Changmin murmurs, offers him a small smile as he wraps his fingers around the condensation-covered glass and brings it up to his lips.

The first sip is terrible, as it always is, the whiskey feeling like fire sliding down his throat and spreading through his empty stomach. He must make a face, because the boy laughs at him, and Changmin would have laughed too if he didn’t feel so miserable living the life that he lives. He takes another sip and puts the glass back down, not wanting it to end too fast.

“Live music?” he asks the boy, nodding towards the stage, his eyes wandering to all the neon lights on the wall.

The boy hums, and when Changmin looks at him again, he finds him pouring himself a glass of whiskey as well.

“Every Tuesdays and Thursdays,” he adds, sipping on his beverage but managing to keep a straight face, much unlike Changmin. Changmin nods, looks back at the stage as a black-haired boy makes himself comfortable on the piano, sorting through a stack of music sheets until he finds the right one. He doesn’t remember the last time he watched a live performance, if ever. “They’re really good.”

“They?” Changmin's question is but a whisper, one that circles around the rim of his glass when he brings it up to his lips and gets washed down as he takes another sip. The other doesn’t bother answering him, because not even a minute later Changmin can see another boy walk up to the stage.

He can feel his heart skip a beat, but pays it no mind.

If Changmin still believed in good things, maybe love at first sight would be one of them. Maybe not to that extent – crushes at first sight? It’s stupid, he knows, but as he takes another sip of his drink and then two more, he can feel the heat of his cheeks steadily increasing the longer he keeps his eyes trained on the stage.

He figures it’s okay to stare, doesn’t think the pretty boy with pink hair can see him so far back – doesn’t think he would mind when there are dozens of people doing just the same as him right now. Changmin doesn’t want to feel like a creep – he doesn’t think he could be one if he tried, thinks that pretty things were made to be looked at, admired from afar but never touched.

It only gets worse when the boy with black hair starts sliding his fingers over the piano keys and the pretty boy with pink hair starts singing along, a melody that Changmin thinks he could have heard through the static of his patched-up radio but would never be able to tell. Changmin almost doesn’t notice how the other patrons in the pub have fallen just as silent as he did, like listening to a siren’s song.

“Who is he?” Changmin asks, knocking back the rest of his drink, enjoying the pleasant buzz that settles under his skin. He knows he shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach, but as his eyes slip shut to the sound of the most beautiful voice he has ever heard in his life, he tells himself that just for tonight this is okay.

“You’re not from around here,” is what the guy says instead of answering, and Changmin shakes his head, body swaying to the rhythm of the piano keys. “Are you hungry?”

Changmin's eyes flutter open, hazed. He wills a small smile on his lips, his hunger having gone numb long ago. He sighs. “Can’t afford it.”

The boy stares at him for a second too long, lips pressed into a thin line as his fingers tap against the granite countertop. The boy sighs, too, the familiar pity flooding back in his eyes, and Changmin can’t help but feel sorry for himself. He wants to say that it’s okay, he is used to this – has gone through worse, but the boy, once again, beats him to it.

“This is the last song,” he informs Changmin, who very obviously pouts, not wanting to see the pretty boy with pink hair go so soon. “Walk out and through the alley to your right; be at the back entrance.”

The boy disappears behind a door before Changmin can so much as say thank you – what for, he doesn’t know. The drink? The very obvious extra shot? The company? His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, his stomach as empty as his pockets, head starting to throb like it usually does every night.

The song comes to an end and the small crowd of men erupt into a roar of cheers and cat calls, waving bills at the pretty boy who now has a flustered smile on his lips and a bright shade of red on his cheeks. Changmin feels like he is going to be sick. He knocks back the glass once again, allowing the melting rocks of ice into his mouth – it’s as close as he will get to drinking purified water in weeks, if not months.

Standing on now wobbly legs, he slips out of the pub before the elite of men do, relieved to find the rain is no more, its lingering smell sobering him up a bit as his back meets the brick wall behind him.

It feels so weird and unfamiliar, to not have decay surround him at nighttime, to see the city bustling with life, laughter coming out of the open windows of the buildings surrounding him. It feels like he is being projected into another world, one where social inequality isn’t a thing, where everyone’s got a chance at being happy and the government doesn’t treat those born in lower classes like sewer rats.

His mended shoes and beat up jeans and years old shirt remind him that this is not his world, much less the reality he lives in. The trembling of his fingers, of having gone days, maybe weeks without having a proper meal a reminder that he shouldn’t have had the bourbon he just did, that he is still as poor as he was when he ventured into the wrong part of town, that he doesn’t belong here.

Out, to his right, Changmin allows his tired feet to drag him over the sidewalk, blinded by the bright lights of the streetlamps lining the streets. It is a pretty sight he doesn’t get to see often, he will admit to that; a sight that he probably won’t be seeing again for months to come, if ever again. Through the alley; the lack of lighting a much more familiar environment to him, almost feeling like home.

Almost.

He spots the neon sign that had been hanging on the entrance of the door a few feet away from him, smaller this time and not as brightly lit, and he is about to charge forward when he stops dead on his tracks.

Standing right under the sign, looking a bit cold and like he could use at least a light jacket, is the same pretty boy with pink hair that had been singing in that very pub only moments ago, and suddenly Changmin doesn’t know what to do. He wants to go up to him and say hi, shower him with praise, maybe profess his undying love to his face and his voice before turning on his heels and running the fuck away. That would be okay, wouldn’t it? It’s not like they would ever see each other again.

But then the boy lifts his head and spots him, and Changmin doesn’t know which demon pushes him and makes him start walking again, but his legs only stop when he is standing before the boy, an awkward smile on his lips, his palms sweating at his sides. He rubs them against his jeans, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“Hey,” the boy is the first one to greet, no trace of the bright expression he had on stage to be seen on his face. Changmin startles and it must show on his face, because the boy offers him a small smile and a slight tilt of his head. “Got any smokes?”

“Oh,” Changmin blushes a little, patting the pockets of his jacket like that’s going to make a pack of cigarettes magically appear in one of them. “I don’t smoke, sorry.”

_Can’t afford it._

The boy’s smile brightens a little.

“That’s alright,” he says with a nod, his tone lightening as he heaves a sigh. “I don’t, either. Figured it could be a good time to start.”

“Rough night?” Changmin leans against the brick wall, legs not feeling strong enough to support his own weight.

The boy gives him a long, hard look, lips pressing into a thin line and brows slightly furrowing. Changmin wants to take it back and apologize, not meaning to be nosy, but then the boy sighs again and leans against the wall as well, and he thinks that maybe this is okay. He feels a bit lightheaded, either from hunger or from the alcohol in his system, and he thinks that he is okay if this is the last face he gets to see before he passes out.

“It always is,” the boy casts his eyes down to his hands, to where his fingers fidget with a small plastic bag. He looks back up at Changmin, small smile back on his lips. “Isn’t it? Always a struggle to get by.”

Changmin thinks of his old bike, broken in more places than not, thinks of the place he calls home, without a single working lightbulb, thinks of the small pile of protein bars wrappers, stolen from multiple convenience stores across town. He thinks of the rainwater he carries in a bottle because he can’t afford to have store-bought filtered water, thinks of how cold the cement benches feel at the police station every time they catch him stealing something just because he needs to get by, to survive.

“Yeah,” is what he answers, voice void of emotion. “It is.”

“I’m Chanhee, by the way,” the boy—Chanhee offers one of his hands out, and it takes Changmin a moment to register that he is supposed to take it in his.

“Changmin,” Chanhee wraps his lithe fingers around his hand, and Changmin tries really hard not to blush even further, his heart beating minutely in his chest.

“You were in there just now, weren’t you?” Chanhee nods towards the brick wall, likely referring to the pub, his eyes looking for something in Changmin's. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“You saw me?” he tries not to stammer, retracting his hand and nervously wiping it in his jeans, which he can only hope Chanhee won’t take it as an offense.

Chanhee scoffs a laugh, mirth sparking in his eyes as he stares at Changmin for a moment too long. He turns around, leans against the wall with his shoulder, arms crossing over his chest. When he raises his brow at him, Changmin feels stupid for even asking – he must have stood out like a sore thumb among the sea of rich men in expensive suits.

“How would I not spot a young soul among that horrid crowd of old, disgusting men?” he says it with a laugh and Changmin can’t help but laugh along, the tension on his shoulders easing up even if just a little. “By the way, this must be for you.”

He hands the plastic bag to him, and it crinkles in his hold when he takes it. Changmin looks down at it, confused, curling his fingers into it to try and get a feel of what’s inside. It’s soft, dips under the pressure of his fingertips, and he must look weird enough to make Chanhee laugh at him.

“It’s just bread,” Chanhee hooks a finger around the opening of the bag and pulls it away, willing Changmin to look inside it. “He told me to give this to you if you showed up.”

“Oh,” he stops kneading the bread, his stomach suddenly growling at him again, and it must be loud enough for Chanhee to hear, too, because his brows suddenly furrow at him again. “Thanks.”

“When did you last eat?” there is concern lacing Chanhee's voice, and Changmin can’t even begin to tell just how undeserving of that he is. If Chanhee knew what he did, where he came from, he wouldn’t be sparing him even a second of his night.

Changmin swallows thickly and shrugs, because that’s as much answer as he can give him. “Don’t know,” he adds, because he doesn’t know, can’t remember the last time he had something that wasn’t a stolen protein bar. “It’s alright, though. Thanks again.”

“Well, I won’t keep you up anymore, then. You must be starving.”

He is, has been for so long he has given up on keeping track of it, but he doesn’t say it. Instead, he offers Chanhee a smile, the kindest one he can manage, not wanting his last image of him to be one of someone so pitiful and so broken.

“You were great on the stage, by the way,” he offers, his smile widening when Chanhee starts smiling at him again.

“Thanks,” Chanhee mumbles, straightening himself up and pushing away from the wall. “Now, go. Go. Will I see you here again?”

Changmin's heart stops, and his cheeks heat up again. It should go without saying that, if he doesn’t have enough money to afford food, he certainly does not have enough to afford drinks every week to stop by. He doesn’t say any of it, and instead he gives Chanhee a nod and a bright smile.

“I’ll try,” is the last thing he says before he turns on his heels and walks away, the bright city lights fading behind his back, his heart thundering in his chest.

Changmin doesn’t think he should call his shelter a home, but he does anyway. It’s a small space with no electricity and barely any ventilation, a single mattress resting against the furthest wall from the entrance; it’s definitely not a place any human being should be living in, the building mostly abandoned, save for the girl living three stores above him. He doesn’t know her, and she doesn’t know him, and Changmin plans to keep things this way for as long as he lives.

The one thing he has learned from interpersonal relationships is that everyone will leave him one day, just like his mother did all those years ago. Willingly or not, everyone leaves, and the only permanent fixtures in his life are the faded scars littered over his body and his ever-growing criminal record of petty thefts.

As he toes off his shoes and climbs into his makeshift bed, small loaf of bread in hand, Changmin wonders if that’s something inherited from his mother’s genes – to steal to survive, to be on the run from the government every waking moment of his life just so he can get by.

When he goes to sleep, he knows that is certainly not the case. Society is just fucked up like that, and there is little he can do to help himself about it. When he closes his eyes, body shivering from the cold but stomach feeling a little less empty than it did when he woke up that morning, Changmin thinks of Chanhee, of his pretty face and kind smile, of his gentle tone and his laughter, and how he had asked if they were going to see each other again.

Changmin doesn’t think he can keep up his promise, but he thinks it is worth at least giving it a shot if that means he can see Chanhee smiling again.

🔥

Changmin often finds himself wandering the streets, wondering if there is something wrong with him. He struggles to recall a moment in his life he attempted to connect with another human being on a deeper level, one that isn’t entirely superficial and work-related, can’t really tell if what he is doing now is okay or if it will come back to bite him in the ass one day. It feels like going against everything he has learned, everything he has taught himself through the years.

He wonders if he is going crazy.

As he wanders through the wrong part of town time and time again, he wonders if him going crazy would explain why he keeps doing this – going back to that alley, seeking Chanhee out, letting butterflies spread through his stomach every time the other boy laughs. Changmin wonders if this is what it feels like to care about someone else other than himself. Chanhee doesn’t ask difficult questions, and Changmin doesn’t either.

It feels a bit ridiculous, he thinks, to allow himself to stay out so late past sunset, so far into the night, when he knows the cops are out to get him and everyone else like him.

He wonders if Chanhee would miss him if he were suddenly gone one day. It is selfish of him, perhaps, to think that he holds any sort of value in Chanhee's life, to think that he has made any sort of lasting impression on the pink haired boy that he would somehow miss him. Maybe it is selfish, but he wants to cling onto that as tightly as he can.

If this will make his downfall harder to endure or not, he chooses to think about it later.

Changmin hasn’t felt fear in years. The first time he does, it is too late into the night. When he is cornered in a dark alley by big, burly men he has learned to recognize as undercover cops, he thinks it is his fault for still being out when he knows he shouldn’t be. Fear comes to him with the first suckerpunch to his stomach, and when he coughs up blood the first thing that comes to mind is Chanhee.

He thinks of what would be of things if he were to die in this alley; would Chanhee notice his absence? Would he go out looking for him? How could he, when he doesn’t know where Changmin is from, has barely scratched the surface of getting to know him. The realization that his corpse would be left there to rot, and he would never get to see Chanhee again hits him harder than the punch delivered to his jaw, which is hard enough for him to hear it crack.

When he comes to it, there is water trickling onto his temple, the ground cold under his head and throbbing pain shooting all over his body. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, or if any time has passed at all, can barely tell if he is still alive or if this is how afterlife is supposed to feel like – painful, miserable, metallic tasting.

Changmin tries sitting up, winces when his skull threatens to shatter under his skin, pain almost making him cry. He brings a hand up to his jaw, to where he remembers being punched the hardest, and he can feel his skin flaring up with the aftermath of being hit. His fingers trace to his lip, then, to a spot that has gone numb, and when he pulls back his hand, there is crimson staining his fingertips.

“Fuck,” he groans, trying to push himself back up on his feet. At least he knows he isn’t dead just yet.

The couple blocks walk to his shelter almost feels like torture, with his entire body feeling like it is about to give out on him with each step he takes. He can feel hot tears streaming down his cheek, worried that he won’t have enough water to wash off the blood from his skin clouding his thoughts, feeling angry to have had his shirt ruined like this.

Changmin can’t remember the last time he cried like this.

Decay follows him wherever he looks, the majority of the buildings around him embedded in darkness, its residents nowhere to be seen. Changmin knows they are there, hiding in fear of famine and a war and threatens to break with each passing day. He figures that maybe things would be better if it did, if chaos were brought upon society and destroyed everything everyone has ever known.

Maybe that would put an end to all this fucking misery he has been surrounded with since the day he was born.

Getting home and realizing he has just about enough water to take a shower, Changmin feels himself go through both relief and grief at the same time. This is not how he had planned his night to go, and he definitely did not plan on using up all the water at once, but he figures there is little he can do about it now.

He winces as he washes up the cut on his lip, trying not to cry again when he sees his reflection in the broken mirror hanging up on the wall. Cleaning up the dirt off his hands, his jaw, his jeans, Changmin wonders how many more beatings his body can take until it gives out on him. He wonders if he should keep on stealing to survive when all it does is send him to jail more times than he can count in a month, and put his head on a hit list at the police station.

As he lays to rest, legs and chest bare despite the cold because it hurts to so much as touch his skin, Changmin weighs the pros and cons of just keeping on going the way he does. He turns around, stares at the calendar hanging right above his head, the bright red x almost shining under the moonlight, reminding him that yet another day has passed.

Tomorrow is Tuesday. Maybe he can do this.

Changmin feels like he shouldn’t be getting so comfortable with strutting down streets where light touches everything he sees. He shouldn’t be seen, should keep himself under the radar like he has done so for the past how many years, probably shouldn’t be playing with fire the way he is growing so used to. Maybe he shouldn’t, but he still does, weaves his way through the city and straight to that poorly lit alley he found himself in weeks ago.

It is still so unfamiliar but at the same time not, the neon sign hanging above the door welcoming him and keeping him company until Chanhee comes stumbling out of the door. Changmin feels his breath being knocked away every time, finds delight in seeing which combination of colors the boy will be wearing each night, his clothes looking like they were tailored just for him.

Tonight, Chanhee stumbles out in tight jeans and a jacket of black sequins, a wide smile on his lips and a light flush to his cheeks. It makes Changmin smile, too, and he almost doesn’t wince when the pull on the skin of his lips makes his fresh cut hurt. Chanhee is halfway through greeting him when the smile drops from his face, and like he is being suddenly sobered up, a deep frown replaces it instead.

“What the _fuck,”_ is what Changmin gets in lieu of a hello, Chanhee's delicate fingers coming up to grab him by the chin, turn his face this way and that towards the light. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Changmin smiles again, wincing a little bit harder at the jostling, his own fingers coming up to wrap around Chanhee's wrist to get his hand off him. He tries not to feel awful about the fact that this is the first time they are touching, the first time Chanhee has laid his hands on him. This is not how he had wanted this to go.

“It’s nothing much,” he says, a lie when he knows Chanhee can see his lip is busted open. He smiles despite the pain; despite the worry he can see in Chanhee's eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you _mean_ it’s nothing much?” he grabs Changmin's chin again, firmer this time. “How can you look at me and tell me not to worry when your lip is bleeding?”

Changmin doesn’t want to think about the implications of all this – of the frown on Chanhee's face, of the concern in his voice, of the way he doesn’t want to let Changmin go. He knows this is wrong, and that he shouldn’t be doing this to himself, because all this is going to lead to is him feeling betrayed and hurt when it’s time for them to part ways. He knows all of that too well, and yet he can’t help the way his heart clenches when Chanhee's grip on him tightens just slightly.

“I just—” he swallows thickly, trying to will the blood rushing to his cheeks away. “I can’t afford to get a first aid kit. It’ll heal, I’ll be fine. I promise.”

_It’s not the first time this happens; won’t be the last._

Chanhee lets go of his chin and runs a hand through his hair, letting out the most frustrated sigh Changmin has ever heard coming out of his mouth. He opens the door to the pub, and Changmin feels almost stunned into silence that he is going to walk away on him just like that.

 _“Kevin!”_ he yells inside instead, and Changmin holds his breath. _“Can you bring me my bag?”_

Changmin waits with bated breath as he hears footsteps running around in the area inside, startles when a boy bursts through the door holding a black bag. He belatedly recognizes him as the pianist who had been on stage with Chanhee all those weeks ago. Before he can greet him, however, the boy’s face twists into a frown just like Chanhee's.

“Shit, man, what happened?” he inquires, pretty much the same way Chanhee did, taking a step closer to try and take a better look at the ugly cut on his lip. Changmin instinctively takes a step back.

“Thanks,” Chanhee takes the bag from his hand and slings it over his shoulder, taking Changmin's wrist in his hold right after. Changmin's eyes trail down from Kevin’s face to where Chanhee holds onto him, his heart speeding up and slowing down at the same time. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” the boy – Kevin says, blinking at them and snapping himself out of it. “Yeah, sure. See you.”

Changmin almost trips on his own feet when Chanhee starts dragging him further down the alley without a word, struggling a bit to keep up with the long strides of his slender legs. He feels alarmed, feels his fight or flight instincts kicking in as his heart starts racing again, much faster this time.

He curls his fingers on top of Chanhee's hand, trying to get him to let go.

“Hey,” he calls out, feeling winded, his ears ringing with adrenaline. He tightens his hold on Chanhee. “Hey, where are you taking me? Let go.”

Chanhee abruptly stops, giving him a once-over with a deep frown set between his brows, like Changmin has grown an extra head in the short time they have been walking.

“I’m taking you to my place,” he explains himself, and Changmin is sure he can feel his ribcage breaking with each beat of his heart. “I can’t let you go home like this.”

It’s Changmin's turn to frown. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you _care?”_ Changmin doesn’t mean for his words to sound as venomous as they do, and he hates to see the way Chanhee recoils at them.

“Am I not supposed to?” he asks, looking hurt by Changmin's words. Changmin wishes he could just punch himself in the face. “I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Chanhee tries to start walking again, but Changmin has his feet glued to the ground. _Is he not supposed to?_ No, he wants to say, wants to scream until his lungs hurt. This is not what he was built for, doesn’t feel like he deserves an ounce of Chanhee's worry.

“Come on, don’t be a dickhead,” Chanhee adds, forcefully tugging on his wrist again and getting him to move. “I have a first-aid kit that can help you with that.”

The thing is, Changmin doesn’t want to face the reality of things. He doesn’t want to realize that Chanhee isn’t like himself, though he has known that since day one, from the way his clothes always look so clean and he always looks so put together. Changmin could see it in the way Chanhee carries himself, like he can see the good in life and not just the bad like himself, like maybe there is a light at the end of the tunnel for him.

He braces himself for the punch to the gut that is going to be facing things like that as Chanhee drags him down the street and then several blocks away, to an old-looking building that is only slightly better off than the one he lives in. Chanhee takes him to the steps that lead to the basement level, uses a set of keys to open one of the doors and lets them in.

When Changmin sees that his place isn’t much bigger than his own, he almost cries.

“It’s not much,” Chanhee says, locking the door behind him and placing a large plank across it, “but it’s home, I guess.”

It takes a minute for Changmin to take it all in – the futon on the far left corner, the single shelf with all his clothes and personal belongings, the books scattered on the floor. The place feels so much smaller with all his things around that it almost feels claustrophobic, too cramped and uncomfortable looking. But that’s a sign that Chanhee is way better off than him, and Changmin feels despair clawing at his chest and his throat, leaving him winded.

“I don’t get electricity often,” Chanhee adds, an edge to his voice that Changmin is sure he hasn’t heard before. When he looks over at him, he sees Chanhee fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “Only about once or twice a month,” he hits the switch next to the door, proving his point when the lights don’t come on. “But I have running water in the bathroom most days, at least.”

Chanhee ventures further into the room, climbing into the futon and patting the free space next to him. Changmin hesitates for a moment; toeing his shoes off, he crosses the small room just as Chanhee starts going through the things on his shelf, probably looking for the first-aid kit he had talked about. He feels a little uncomfortable, doesn’t really know what to do with himself, feels overwhelmed with how close Chanhee is sitting next to him.

The boy pulls a small plastic container from under his clothes, a soft sigh escaping his lips when he turns around to face Changmin again. Changmin allows his eyes to wander, from Chanhee's face down to his hands as he opens the lid and handles the kit. It’s not much, as far as Changmin can see, just a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a few cotton balls, some gauze and maybe a handful of bandaids, but that’s definitely way more than Changmin would have ever had in his entire lifetime.

“This might sting a bit,” Chanhee breathes out, soaking up a cotton ball. He tips Changmin's chin up with a gentle finger, turning his face towards the light coming from the small window next to the door. Changmin hisses with the first dab against the cut, flinching away from Chanhee's hold. Chanhee brings his lower lip between his teeth, softly whispers, “sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Changmin mumbles, trying not to wince every time the cotton hits his skin but failing miserably at doing so. He knows Chanhee can see his discomfort, can see it in the way his eyebrows twitch and his fingers shake just slightly. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Chanhee completely ignores him, swiping the cotton ball over his lip one last time before setting it aside and reaching for the plastic container again.

Changmin carefully eyes him. “I don’t want to push you away.”

It makes Chanhee laugh, a laughter that makes his eyes sparkle with something Changmin can’t read.

“Try me,” he says, now squeezing out some ointment on his index finger before bringing it up to Changmin's lip. He pauses, looks Changmin in the eyes, his smile kind. “You’d be surprised with the amount of fucks I don’t give.”

“What would you do—” his voice cracks, heart beating hard against his chest. “What would you do to save yourself?”

Chanhee sighs, dabs his ointment-covered finger on his lip. “Anything. I’m not proud of the things I’ve done to get here, you know. In this basement.”

“And what are those things?” he prods.

Chanhee's eyes are never unkind.

“If I tell you, will you tell me what happened?” Changmin nods. Chanhee sighs again, wiping his finger clean on his pants and leaning back against the wall; he looks tired. “I’ve done pretty much everything in the book just to be able to live another day. Some days, I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. Right now, I’m a party prop of sorts for the rich, I guess.”

“You’re pretty,” Changmin mindlessly adds.

The flush that spreads over Chanhee's cheeks is adorable.

“I guess,” he adds, an edge of bitterness to his voice. “I like dressing up, so it’s not all too bad. Some days are easier to endure than others; I’ve grown to like Tuesdays quite a bit.”

Changmin's heart skips a beat or two, his fingers digging into his thighs. He swallows thickly around his nerves. “Why?”

Chanhee tilts his head, reads his face for a moment too long. “You’re giving me a sense of object permanence that I haven’t felt in a while.”

“I’m a thief,” Changmin says, clear as day, for the first time in his life. It feels like getting a weight off his shoulder while adding a thousand more at the same time. “I also work deliveries, but they don’t pay me that often.”

Chanhee leans forward, leaning on his hands as he splays them on the futon, getting too close to him. Changmin could count his lashes if he tried, can feel his breath ghosting on his face, his own pulse loud in his ears. Something inside him tells him to lean forward as well, but the more rational part of his brain tells him to stay still.

“That’s okay,” his kind smile is back, and Changmin kind of hates the way his heart flutters at it. “If it’s what you gotta do to survive, steal from the rich all the way. Fuck them, honestly.”

Changmin lets out a strangled laugh, unsure of what to do with himself. He wants to touch, wants to run his fingers through Chanhee's hair, to feel his soft skin under his touch, but he doesn’t feel like he should – doesn’t think he deserves it.

“Tell me, Changmin,” Chanhee adds, the tone of his voice dropping an octave, and Changmin is hyper aware of the way his lashes flutter when he blinks up at him. “Would it be okay for me to kiss you?”

“Yeah,” he nervously licks his lips, his brain not quite following what is going on. “Fuck, yeah, it would.”

Chanhee reaches a hand to the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair as he pulls him in, leans forward, meets him halfway. Chanhee's lips are plush against his, soft and moist with spit, the hand on the back of his neck so gentle it feels almost weightless.

For the first time in too long, Changmin feels like he doesn’t need to be on high alert.

He places a hand on Chanhee's hip, fingers gently digging into his flesh, trying to pull him closer, impossibly close. The softness of the kiss only lasts a fraction of a moment before Chanhee is running his tongue across the seam of his lips, and Changmin easily opens up for him. There is no hurry in the way their tongues glide against each other, easy, Chanhee's tongue hot against his.

Changmin tastes every bit of his mouth, tastes the soft fruity vodka aftertaste, drinks in the soft mewls Chanhee lets out the deeper he kisses him. It drives him insane to think that he is just sitting here, in Chanhee's room, kissing him, breathing him in, pulling him close, Chanhee's fingers gripping tightly at the hairs on the back of his neck as he _goes deep, deep, deep._ It makes his heart race more than it ever did before, makes his ears ring and his head spin.

Chanhee is the one who parts first, panting, eyes hazed as he stares Changmin down. Changmin can’t take his eyes off him – the way his cheeks flush, or how red his lips are, spit slick and just slightly parted, hair tousled and pushing away from his forehead. He looks beautiful, Changmin thinks, like a mirage gracing his life before everything goes to shit.

Changmin is the one who leans in this time, who doesn’t wait before kissing him deep, almost shoving his tongue down his throat with how hungry he feels. And Chanhee moans into the kiss, slides his hands to the front of his shirt and pulls him in, in until Changmin starts toppling over him and he falls back onto the futon.

“You’re beautiful,” he says because he feels he needs to, afraid he won’t get to say it some other time. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Touch me,” Chanhee breathes out, almost a whine, pulling him closer in until their lips crash together once more. Changmin can feel shudders run down his spine when Chanhee slips his hands under his shirt, fingertips cold against his skin as he runs them up and down his sides. He can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips, one that curls into a moan and spills into Chanhee's mouth.

And Chanhee moans, too, when Changmin straddles his lap and cups his face in his hands. He tilts Chanhee's head just slightly, just enough so that he can have better access, and he can almost feel Chanhee melting under his touch. His hands are incessant under his shirt, mapping his stomach and up his chest, fingers ghosting over his nipples and Changmin pulls away.

Chanhee looks up at him, confused and lightly panting, but it only stays a second on his face, until Changmin grabs the hem of his own shirt and pulls it over his head. There is a shiver that runs through his body as the cold air blows against his back, a stark contrast to how warm his face and chest feel, arousal starting to frizzle under his skin. Chanhee's hands are on him again in no time, warmer this time as he runs them over his biceps, his shoulders, cups his face and kisses him again.

Changmin could get used to this, to Chanhee kissing him breathless, kissing him a little stupid, his hands roaming his body, touching, feeling, gripping. He won’t, though, doesn’t want to let himself think this is anything more than a feeble moment, doesn’t want to imagine a world where something other than the bruises on his body could be permanent, only to have it slip away from him through the gaps of his fingers.

He wants to focus on the now, and the now has his hands slipping under Chanhee's jacket, sliding them over his shoulders until Chanhee sits up and shakes it off. He is mesmerizing in the way he looks at Changmin, a spark in his eyes that could start a fire if he wanted.

Changmin wants to touch, and this time he allows himself to – tugs on Chanhee's shirt and pulls it over his head, his breath getting caught in his throat as he stares down at him.

“Please don’t,” Chanhee whispers, fingers slightly shaky as they come up to brush against his cheek. Changmin frowns, confused. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Look at you like what?”

Chanhee pauses, breathes out, doesn’t say anything. He smiles at him again, but now there is something in his eyes that Changmin can’t quite read – pain, sorrow, _something._ He kisses Chanhee on the corner of his lips, trails to his cheek and his jaw, kissing along its expanse and then moving to his neck. Chanhee's head tips back as he breathes out a moan, his throat vibrating under Changmin's lips as he peps at his skin.

He kisses over Chanhee's shoulder blades, lets his tongue drag across the skin until he reaches his shoulder and then kisses him there, too, wet and open-mouthed. Chanhee's hand comes up to bury in his hair, fingers playing with his locks as Changmin makes his way back to his neck and down to his collarbones. Changmin slowly pushes him back down onto the futon, feeling his heart race with every breathy sound that comes out of Chanhee's mouth.

Changmin trails his kisses down, softly kisses over Chanhee's chest, feeling his skin burn with every kiss and then right above his heart, feeling it thrum in his ribcage right under his lips. His hands are gentle as he grabs onto his sides to hold Chanhee in place, gentle as he keeps going down to his stomach and his thumbs dig into his hipbones. It makes Chanhee squirm, back arching when Changmin licks a stripe right above his navel.

It makes Changmin smile against his body. He breathes Chanhee in, dips his tongue into his navel and Chanhee actually giggles, fingers tightening on his hair as he moves down again. He makes quick work of unbuttoning his jeans, fingers curling into the waistband and tugging it down along with his underwear. Chanhee lifts himself up just enough so that he can get them past his ass, body melting into the futon when Changmin starts to drag them down his legs.

Changmin makes sure his nails scrape against his skin, lightly and barely there but still something, and Chanhee doesn’t disappoint with the low mewl he lets out, body pliant under his hands. He is beautiful, so gorgeous Changmin can barely believe his eyes, left completely speechless at the way Chanhee's skin seems to almost glow under the faint moonlight coming from the small window, his cock hard and flush resting against his pelvis.

When Changmin kisses him again it’s right below his navel, exactly where he left off and he absolutely adores the way Chanhee gets just a little bit louder, his hand falling on his hair again. The tug he gets when he presses his lips over his hipbone is hardly strong enough to sting, but it’s enough to make his scalp tingle and it makes him groan, his cheeks heating up when Chanhee squirms under him again.

He moves further down his crotch, kissing around Chanhee's dick but never quite touching him, and when Chanhee's legs spread further open, Changmin runs his palms down the sides of his thighs and then under. He gently pushes his legs up and Chanhee is quick to let go of his hair to hook both his hands under them, pulling them closer to his chest.

Changmin doesn’t want to think about how flustered he himself feels right now; he can hear his own heart beating too loudly in his ears and too hard in his chest when he places a kiss on the back of Chanhee's thigh, right above the curve of his ass and Chanhee lets out the most beautiful mewl. He can see Chanhee's cock twitch against his stomach, can feel his own twitch in his pants and strain against the zipper.

He lets spit pool in his mouth then, lets it drip down his lip and watches with pupils blown as it drips over Chanhee's balls, down his perineum and Chanhee gets _louder._ Changmin laps his tongue where it dripped first, follows it down to his perineum and then over his rim, his breath shaky when Chanhee's moans come out broken, body trembling just slightly under his tongue.

Changmin takes his time, flattens his tongue against him and drags it up again, to his perineum and his balls and then back, Chanhee's noises absolute music to his ears. He kisses him wet, kisses him dirty until his body is arching off the futon and his breathing becomes shallow. When he pulls back, there is a string of saliva connecting his chin to Chanhee, and he can see precum pooling under Chanhee's cockhead, cock still untouched.

He places a kiss to his inner thigh, lightly bites on it and Chanhee lets his legs fall over his shoulder, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. It makes Changmin smile against him, press another kiss to the soft skin, another bite, Chanhee's moans turning into a whine.

“I assume you have condoms and lube?” Changmin asks with a raise of his brow, rubbing comforting circles with his thumbs over Chanhee's hips.

“Fuck—” Chanhee breathes, scrambling to sit up. “Yeah—yeah, hold on—”

Changmin would find it funny how flustered Chanhee is if he felt any better. He hurriedly gets on his feet and pushes his pants down his legs, taking his boxers along and trying to ignore the ghost pain he feels when the rough material brushes against his still sore bruises. He can see Chanhee still in his movements when he turns around, strip of condom and tube of lube in hand, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“Changmin—” he whispers, setting everything aside and sitting up properly.

Changmin offers him the kindest smile he can muster before he starts talking again.

“I’m fine,” he says again because he really is, at least for now. Right now, Changmin feels the best he has felt in a really long while. He gets back on the futon, right in front of Chanhee, his fingers coming up to delicately trace his cheek. He tries to pretend his heart doesn’t skip a beat when Chanhee leans into his touch. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You can’t ask that of me,” Chanhee's voice is still low, his fingers now lightly tracing over the bruises he can finally see on his ribcage. He can feel Chanhee's fingers tremble, breath coming out shaky when he looks up at him again. “You can’t ask that of me, this is not fair.”

Changmin almost wants to laugh.

“A lot of things in this life aren’t fair,” he reminds him, gentle, his eyes as kind as Chanhee's had been at the start of all this. “This is not what tonight is about, is it? Listen to me.”

Even in the dark, he can see Chanhee's pupils shake.

“I’m fine,” he repeats. “Believe me when I say it.”

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Chanhee's lips, Chanhee's hands going from his torso to his biceps, gripping him tightly as if trying to ground himself. Changmin kisses him again and again, kisses him until he feels the tension slip away from Chanhee's fingers and he relaxes again.

Changmin starts making his way down once more, holding Chanhee by the thighs and pulling on him until he is lying down again. He feels obsessed with the way Chanhee looks like this, with his hair disheveled and his chest heaving as he kisses down his body, legs falling open with so much ease Changmin feels like he is going insane.

He presses a kiss to his inner thigh, searches for the lube and Chanhee keens. He holds his own legs up again, unprompted this time, his nails digging into his flesh like he is trying to quell down the anticipation building up.

Changmin feels his heart thunder in his chest at the mere thought that Chanhee might feel just as desperate for this as he does.

He reaches for the tube that now lies next to Chanhee's torso, uncapping it and spreading a generous amount of cherry-scented gel over his fingers. He warms it up before reaching down, wanting to cause Chanhee as little discomfort as possible. When he presses the tip of his middle finger against Chanhee's rim, Chanhee mewls in pleasure, throwing his head back as his nails dig further into his skin.

Changmin pushes his finger in up until the first knuckle, trying to be patient even if his dick hurts with how hard he is, not wanting to rush things up and end up ruining the night for the both of them. Chanhee lets out the breathiest moan, rolls his hips and Changmin takes it as a sign that he can keep going. He keeps pushing in, past the second knuckle up until the base of his finger, and the satisfied hum that Chanhee lets out is enough telling that this is okay.

He places another kiss to Chanhee's thigh, right above the spot he is holding onto, and he loves the way he can feel it tremble under his lips. Maybe it’s from the effort of holding his legs up, from the feeling of Changmin's finger inside him or the softness of the peck compared to everything else going on – Changmin can’t really tell, but he will take it as it is.

Changmin slowly pulls out, making sure the pad of his finger presses firmly against Chanhee's walls as he does so, leaving only the tip hooked in. He eases it in again, reveling in the way Chanhee is so responsive to the slightest of touches, slowly stretching him up so he can take more. He almost makes a show of it, of fucking Chanhee with a single digit, almost entranced with the way it disappears inside him.

When Chanhee rolls his hips again, he pulls back and presses the tip of his forefinger in. There isn’t much resistance, his finger easily sliding in and making Changmin feel like he is losing his goddamn mind. He can see Chanhee's chest shake, still, as he adjusts to the addition and tries to steady his breathing. His lips are slightly parted, coated with saliva as he pants.

Changmin moves up, slowly easing his fingers in and out, presses a kiss to the corner of Chanhee's lips and Chanhee eagerly reaches up to him. His fingers twist into his hair when Changmin bottoms his fingers out and grips him tightly when he rubs the pads of his fingers against his walls. Changmin mewls into the kiss, the sting on his scalp making pleasure zip down his spine and straight to his dick.

He scissors Chanhee open, works him through until his muscles start to loosen around his fingers, until his grip on his hair is no longer deathly and he starts biting on his lower lip. Changmin wishes he could drag this out for the entire night, that he could play Chanhee like this until he comes with a cry over his stomach, but just for tonight Changmin will allow himself to be greedy, and he wants _more._

He pulls back when Chanhee starts softly begging, his name rolling off his tongue like a mantra. Changmin hushes him with a kiss, but the press of a third finger against his rim has Chanhee almost singing to the heavens, throwing his head back when Changmin slides all the way in. Changmin kisses down his neck, licks over his collarbones as he fucks him open, gets drunk on how salty Chanhee's skin feels on his tongue.

“Changmin,” Chanhee breathes out, cupping his cheeks in his hands and making him look up at him. There is want in his eyes and sweat beading at his hairline; he looks nothing short of wrecked already. “Please, _please—”_

Changmin smiles, pulls his fingers out and kisses him again, deep and just as needy as Chanhee seems to be. His heart is beating so loud in his ears he can barely hear his own thoughts, his blood rushing in his veins and making him feel dizzy. Chanhee sits up and pushes him to sit against the wall, patting around for the long discarded strip of condoms to rip one off.

Changmin wraps a hand around his dick and lazily strokes himself as he watches Chanhee fumble around, fingers slightly shaking as he tries to rip the pack open. He ultimately rips it with his teeth, growing impatient with each passing second that he doesn’t have his hands on Changmin. Changmin groans when Chanhee tugs his hand away from his cock, groans even louder when he rolls the condom on for him, squirts too much lube over it and gives him a few tentative strokes.

He is ready to move again when Chanhee presses a hand to his chest, pinning him to the wall as he throws his leg over his lap and straddles his hips. Changmin can feel the air catch in his throat when he realizes, as Chanhee reaches down to hold his dick by the base, how he wants this to go; his hands reach out to hold him by the waist, and Chanhee's eyes flutter shut when he presses his cockhead against his rim.

There is concentration in the way his brows draw together, in the way his lips press into a thin line and the hand he has on his chest slides up to his shoulder, his nails digging hard into his flesh. Changmin bears the pain, because he knows it doesn’t compare to the sting that comes with the stretch when Chanhee starts sinking down on him. He rubs his hands on his sides, soothing, eyes trained on the way Chanhee's jaw goes slack and his head tips forward.

A shiver runs through Chanhee's body as he sinks _down, down, down,_ the hand that had been holding Changmin's dick coming up to hold onto his other shoulder, gripping just as tightly as the other. The moans he lets out are almost cries, low and quick and breathless and Changmin wishes he could kiss his discomfort away.

Chanhee doesn’t stop until he sinks down to the base and then he’s panting, ass flush on Changmin's lap. His head drops to the crook of his neck and his breath is overwhelmingly hot on his skin, but not as much as how tight he feels around his dick. Changmin runs his hands from his waist to his back and pulls him close, _closer,_ holds him until he is no longer shaking.

There are strings of curses falling from Chanhee's lips when he starts mouthing at Changmin's neck, his walls clenching so tightly Changmin feels like he could come from the pressure alone. Changmin presses light pecks to his neck, trails them down to his shoulder and then all the way back up.

“Hey,” he whispers, lips now pressed right under Chanhee's jaw. “Breathe, yeah? Relax.”

“Oh, _god,”_ Chanhee groans, rolling his hips tentatively, his teeth grazing against Changmin's skin. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Changmin's hold on him tightens, his hips twitching involuntarily and making Chanhee moan, loud and right into his ear. It makes him shiver, makes his skin prickle with excitement and newfound urgency to move. He doesn’t move; he waits for Chanhee to do it first, waits until it’s comfortable enough for him to lift himself up.

It happens not long after; Chanhee braces himself on his shoulders, head tipping back as he starts raising himself on his knees and Changmin's hands slide back to his waist, holding him firmly. He almost blacks out at the feeling of Chanhee's walls sliding against him like that, tight and slow as he rises up, still painfully slow when he sinks back down and sits flush on his lap.

Chanhee is panting, his moaning low and trapped in his throat as he rolls his hips, lifts himself up again on shaky legs and sinks back down. Changmin holds him tightly, and the next time Chanhee starts lifting himself up, Changmin helps him with it, making the movement easier and less straining on his legs. It earns him a loud moan from Chanhee, then another when Changmin pushes him down and his entire body jolts in pleasure.

Things are easy from there; Chanhee bounces on his lap with ease, the sound of his ass hitting Changmin's thighs echoing in the small room. Changmin wishes there was light, if only for him to properly see the flush that is sure to be spreading through Chanhee's body as he fucks himself on his dick, so he could see how hazy his eyes are when he stares down at him. He is lovely, absolutely wrecked as he picks up his pace.

Chanhee's body is hot like a furnace, burning up with pleasure that has Changmin moaning, pressure building in his groin and making his skin buzz. He can feel his own blood boil in his veins, can’t hear anything past Chanhee's moans of his name, Chanhee's breath on him suffocating in the best way.

Changmin slides his hands from his waist to his ass, cups his cheeks and spreads them apart; he holds Chanhee in place, halfway down his cock, and he doesn’t give Chanhee the opportunity to complain before he is planting his feet on the futon and thrusting up as hard and precise as he can. It makes Chanhee squeak, almost, his hand reaching down to tug at his cock in the same way Changmin fucks into him – fast and sloppy at best.

There is sweat on his brow when he pushes Chanhee down on his dick and swiftly changes positions, pressing Chanhee down on the futon and getting on top of him. Changmin wishes he could imprint the scene before him behind his lids – of Chanhee's disheveled hair and his parted lips and his glistening skin as he jerks himself to completion.

It’s easier to fuck him like this, and as Chanhee wraps his legs around his torso, Changmin braces himself onto the futon and pistons his hips so hard it makes Chanhee's body jolt upward every time. His hipbones digging into his ass must be uncomfortable, but Chanhee doesn’t mention it; instead, he brings his free hand to the back of his neck and brings him down into a kiss.

Changmin can feel himself getting close in the way the tips of his fingers start going numb, can feel it in the tightening of his groin and the way his muscles start to strain. He angles his hips, and when he drills into Chanhee's ass again Chanhee cries out, his entire body shaking and the hand on his dick momentarily stilling. Changmin balances himself on one hand, brings the other down to replace Chanhee's on his cock and Chanhee all but claws at his back as he strokes him at the same pace as his thrusting.

“Changmin,” Chanhee breathes out, over and over again, mixed in with too many _fucks_ and _oh gods._ Changmin kisses him deep, swallows all his moans and nearly blacks out when Chanhee clenches tightly around his dick and spills over his hand.

Changmin milks him through his orgasm, stilling his hips until Chanhee stops shaking, his chest now covered in sticky white and tears wetting his lashes. He kisses Chanhee when he comes back to it, kisses the soft cries that escape his lips when he slowly starts rocking his hips again, feeling his own orgasm starting to ripple through his body with every clench of Chanhee's ass around his cock.

Chanhee, despite his soft mewls of overstimulation, doesn’t push him away. He digs his heels into his lower back, sending him deeper and deeper, and it’s when he rakes his skin over his back once again that Changmin allows his orgasm to hit him and push him over the edge. He fucks Chanhee through it, fucks him as he spills warm into the condom and then some, until his dick starts hurting and he feels the need to pull away.

He sits back on his heels instead of crushing Chanhee with his weight, breathing heavily as he tries to come down from his post-orgasm high. His arms are shaking when he reaches for the condom and pulls it off, tying up a knot before setting it aside on the floor.

“Come here,” Chanhee says, his voice raspy, nudging him with his foot.

“We should get you cleaned up,” Changmin reasons, trying to rise to his feet, but Chanhee kicks his kneecap to keep him down, making him hiss. “Come on.”

“I said come here,” he now pats the tiny space next to him on the futon, rolling to the side until he is almost glued to the wall. “We’ll clean up in a bit.”

Changmin crawls over but doesn’t lie next to him. He just sits there, looking down at Chanhee through the shadows; Chanhee doesn’t seem to mind it, just rests his head on his thigh and looks up right back at him. The moment is much too fond, his heart doing things it shouldn’t in his ribcage, Chanhee's eyes overflowing with something Changmin can’t quite put a word on and doesn’t dare to ask.

He ghosts his fingers over his cheeks, his heart skipping a beat when Chanhee leans into the touch, brushes them over his forehead and pushes his hair away from his face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he is the one to say it this time, a whisper that almost gets lost between them.

Chanhee's lips tug into a smile. “Look at you like what?”

He runs his fingers through his hair. “With so much fondness,” Changmin answers, unlike Chanhee had. “Like you want me to stay the night.”

“And if I do?” Chanhee questions with a raise of his brow, hand coming up to curl his fingers around his wrist.

Changmin thinks his heart stops beating.

“I won’t,” he answers. He can’t.

He can see Chanhee's eyes fall on the bruises on his ribcage, can feel his hand twitch as he considers reaching out for them again, can see so many things that cross Chanhee's eyes and yet he decides not to act on any of them. He looks back up at Changmin, then, reaching for his face, thumbing softly at his cheek.

“I can’t let you walk back so late at night,” he tries to reason, and Changmin tries not to cry.

“I can take care of myself,” it is only half the truth, the bruising on his body exposing the half that is a clear lie; it’s not like this is going to be the first night he is out late, and unless they are out to kill him, he doubts he is going to be targeted two nights in a row. He tries to smile as best as he can. “Trust me.”

Chanhee sighs. “Well, at least take a shower before you leave, then.”

And he does. Chanhee sends him to the bathroom while he fixes things around the room despite Changmin's insistence that he should be the one to go first, nearly shoving him into the small space and shutting the door behind him. The water is cold, and he can barely see anything, but it feels nice to shower with running water for a change.

When he comes out, Chanhee is sitting back on the edge of his futon, having slipped back into his boxers. He looks small like this, with his knees pulled to his chest and his chin resting on top of them, arms looped around his legs as he pulls them close.

“Hey,” he calls out, fixing his clothes, and Chanhee lazily turns his head to look up at him. “You alright?”

Chanhee nods, offering him one of his kind smiles again. “Just thinking.”

“Is it alright if I leave you to your thoughts?” Chanhee snorts. “I can stay a bit longer if you need.”

“It’s okay,” Chanhee says with a light shake of his head. “I don’t want to keep you longer than I already did. You know how dangerous it is outside, for people like us.”

Changmin squats down next to him, running a hand through his hair. Chanhee leans into it, eyes fluttering closed, and Changmin doesn’t stop himself as he leans in to press a kiss to his lips. He can feel Chanhee smiling against him, can feel the warmth of his breath on his face when he sighs.

“You’re great,” Changmin says in earnest.

Chanhee scoffs, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m disgusting.”

“You’re wonderful,” he runs his hand from his hair to his chin, tipping his face up and forcing Chanhee to be eye-level with him. “You’re the most wonderful person I’ve met on this hell of a planet we live in.”

Chanhee takes his hand in his and squeezes it firmly before peeling it away from his face, pressing it into his chest in return.

“I think you should get going,” his voice is still low, his eyes unreadable. “It’s late.”

“Alright,” he says as he gets back on his feet. Chanhee gets up as well, his knees popping as he does so. He laughs when Changmin's eyes bulge, his hands instinctively reaching out to hold him, brushes him away with a soft _it happens sometimes._

Chanhee walks him to the door, removes the plank blocking the way and opens it for him. Changmin doesn’t like how cold the night air already feels against his skin, but he has learned how to deal with it long ago. He turns around, presses a soft kiss to Chanhee's lips and breathes him in one last time that night.

“I’ll see you next Tuesday, then.”

Chanhee smiles at him.

“I’d really hope so.”

🔥

Feelings are a complicated thing to have, Changmin knows that much.

He should know better than to allow his heart to beat faster than usual, to allow excitement to prickle under his skin, to allow his usually dreamless nights to be plagued by soft smiles and hues of pink. He should know better, but he still allows himself to _feel,_ if only for a little while. To feel his heart beating in his chest, to feel the rush that takes over him when he lies down at night and tries to sleep.

Lately, things don’t feel so bad.

They suck, still, of course they do. The world is still almost ending but not quite around him, he still doesn’t have shit to his name and his home is still on the verge of collapsing every time he crosses the threshold, but at least now he has something to look forward to. Lately, Changmin finds himself starving more and stealing less, crying himself to sleep most nights because he is just too hungry, too tired, but it’s not all too bad.

 _Six days_ – his record time steering away from police’s way. It has been six days since his last beating, five since Chanhee took him back to his place. Maybe he is being stupid, reckless for allowing his body to deteriorate over something that could be nothing more than just a fleeting moment. The funny thing about feelings, though, is that you can’t control them.

Changmin finds that he can’t afford going to jail one more time lest it ruins his chances of seeing Chanhee again. The bruises on his body are starting to fade, yellowing around the edges and no longer hurting; if staying out of trouble means he won’t have to see worry in Chanhee's eyes ever again, then he is willing to at least try it.

He feels stupid, but it’s okay. It’s not like he has anyone but himself around to judge him for it.

Changmin still feels fear settling deep in his bones as he ventures to the other side of the city, as he allows streetlamps to illuminate the way he walks, allows himself to be seen. There is always the crippling anxiety in the back of his brain, and it doesn’t matter that he has stayed out of trouble for a little over a week now, because it still tells him loud and clear – _you are not worthy of being here; you are in danger._

Swallowing past his fears is a challenge on most days. He still hasn’t gotten used to the idea of all this – of fear, fearing the loss of something he never even thought he would one day have. He doesn’t know if he is even entitled to say he has something, if _they_ have something, but he wants to believe that he does. That they do. And if he has to lie to himself in order to believe it, he will.

Tonight, it is unsettlingly cold. He can feel it seeping through his worn-out jacket and right into his bones, as it makes a shiver run down his spine and his toes curl inside his shoes as he walks the now familiar streets. Something feels out of place, and it’s not only because he is where he shouldn’t be.

He tries not to worry about it too much, attributes it to his mild paranoia, nurtured through years of trying to cheat the system.

Changmin knows that it is still too early when he gets to the pub’s back alley, that it will still be a while until Chanhee walks through the back door and greets him with his wide smile and loud laughter. The neon sign hanging above his head has somewhat become his good friend and companion over the course of the past few weeks, keeping him distracted while cold wind bites at his bones.

Tonight, however, it leaves him feeling a little unsettled.

He can’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe it’s the way some of the letters have gone off, leaving the alley just a little bit darker than it usually is. Maybe it’s how quiet the world seems to have gone, the way everything seems to stand still. It feels like hours have passed, though he wouldn’t be able to tell, his feet starting to hurt when he decides to squat down and wait.

When the door bursts open, he doesn’t hear Chanhee's familiar laugh. Instead, when he looks up to see him, he finds Kevin instead, slinging his bag over his shoulder in apparent rush, ready to dash off.

“Kevin?” he calls out, getting back on his feet. He glances back into the pub through the still open door, brows drawing into a light frown.

“Oh,” Kevin seems surprised to see him, his brows arching far up behind his bangs, stumbling on his feet and losing his balance as he turns around to face him. “Changmin, right?”

Changmin glances into the pub once more, expecting to see Chanhee's figure trailing after him. He never comes, and as the door clicks shut, Changmin can feel his heart skip a beat.

“Uhm,” he scratches his neck, feeling a little nervous all of a sudden. This is the first time they’re talking after Kevin saw him bleeding the previous week, and he can’t help but feel a little awkward. “Do you think Chanhee will be long until he’s out?”

Changmin didn’t think Kevin could possibly look more surprised than he already did, but he does just as his words register in his brain. He can see Kevin trying to search his face and it suddenly makes him feel even more nervous and unsettled; has he said something wrong?

“He didn’t tell you?” there is disbelief laced in his voice, his tone going up an octave. Changmin's frown deepens, his head tilting to the side as he tries to search Kevin’s face back. “He got hired to work at this rich dude’s place like, last week. He’s not coming, man.”

Changmin can feel the world slowing to a stop and standing still. He thinks about Chanhee standing at his door, smiling at him, kissing him back with a promise of seeing him again the following week. He thinks of the sound of Chanhee's voice when he laughs, and about how different it had been when he was sitting on top of him, moaning his name and crying out as he came. He thinks about Chanhee sitting on the floor, looking so small and lost in his own thoughts.

Had he known, then? Had Chanhee known he wouldn’t be seeing Changmin the following Tuesday?

Changmin can feel the ground shake under his feet, light drizzle starting to descend from the gloomy clouds upon them.

“That’s a relief,” is what he says instead, a pained smile falling on his lips, his fingers lightly trembling at his sides where he grasps onto his jeans.

Maybe things will be better like this; at least one of them getting a shot at living the good life, of getting more than they would have ever been able to. Changmin wishes he would have been the one to offer him a better life.

His breath shakes when he breathes in, then out, and blinks up at Kevin.

“Do you know where I can find him?” his voice comes out lower than he expected, but he knows it is loud enough for him to be heard. “So I can at least see him one last time?”

Kevin grips the strap of his bag, his fingers running over the fabric. Changmin watches as he shifts his weight from one foot to another, his eyes darting towards the main street by the end of the alley, then back at him. He licks his lips and heaves a sigh.

Changmin knows he is nervous.

“I, personally, don’t,” the way he speaks is almost grave, and his shoulders sag a little. “But I know someone who does.”

Kevin steps closer, tightly wraps his fingers around his wrist and tugs him forward. Changmin can feel his heartrate picking up, sweat beading at his hairline as he tries to set himself free from his death grip; it’s useless, and he can feel a shiver run down his spine as Kevin stares straight into his soul through his eyes.

“I’m only doing this because Chanhee seems to care about you,” Kevin’s voice is a sharp whisper in the night, his eyes fierce as he squints at him, “and you changed something in him. Be here this Friday at five, not a minute later.”

It’s only after Changmin nods that Kevin lets go, slowly backing away before running into the night. Changmin can feel his heart pounding in his chest, Kevin’s words echoing in his head. They don’t quite register – he can’t possibly see how they could ever be real. His heart feels too heavy in his chest, his feet glued to the ground as drizzle turns to pouring.

Friday at five, and not a minute later.

Feelings are a complicated thing to have, and he should have known better than to allow his heart to flutter every time Chanhee smiled at him, with every string of conversations they had. But it is what it is, and all he has to do now is wait for Friday to roll around so he can see Chanhee one last time before he reaches into his chest and pulls his heart out with his bare hands.

It was fun while it lasted, but the quicker he accepts there is no longer a _them,_ the quicker he can move on.

Had they ever been? He doesn’t know – chooses to keep lying to himself, if only to make it easier on him.

Changmin hates the rain now more than ever as it cascades from the sky and pours over him, mocking him in his misery. The raindrops almost cut through his skin with how heavy they feel, cold settling under the layers of his clothes. It feels like he has been walking for hours – crossing the city back home never felt as arduous a task as it does now.

He thinks that maybe he has gotten a little too used to having Chanhee's energy recharge him for the rest of the night.

Changmin can feel his muscles ache as the streets start becoming familiar once again. What isn’t familiar, however, is how they are no longer as poorly lit, the way he can hear engines working instead of just the sound of his feet against the pavement and his own thoughts. His heart sinks, a beat too late to realize the warm light shining from blocks away could never come from the streetlamps he has learned to become familiar with.

He quickens his steps to a jog, the sudden buzz of machinery sending him into a daze. Jog turns to running, his lungs burning as he runs down the streets and towards the light. There is a loud crash that makes the ground shake under his feet, almost makes him lose his footing as he rounds another corner. He is so close to home and the light only gets brighter, warmer, the noises getting louder as his heart starts beating in his throat.

Another corner, another crash – this time, he trips and falls to the ground, his hands scraping on concrete. Changmin looks up, looks at the building he had grown used to calling his home and finds it in flames, being wrecked to pieces and bulldozed to the ground, as well as every other building lining up the street. He knows the wetness he feels on his face is no longer from the rain, his eyes burning and his chest hurting as he screams out a sob.

His cries fall on deaf ears, muffled by the loud noise of destruction. He can’t take his eyes off the flames as they eat everything they touch, as they burn his entire life to the ground. It takes him a while to register the body running towards him – not _towards him,_ but in the same direction he is at, away from the flames.

It takes him a while to register the smaller frame of the girl he knows used to be his neighbor from floors above his, now with a shirt covering the better part of her face. She almost manages to dash right past him when he reaches up and holds her by the wrist, tugging her so hard she almost falls next to him.

“What are you _doing?!”_ she screams, her voice broken like she had been crying. Changmin wouldn’t be surprised if she had. “Let go of me!”

“What is going on?” he sobs out, his grip on her wrist turning deathly. “Why are they doing this?”

“The rich are reclaiming the neighborhood,” her free hand comes to wrap around his, forcing him off her. “They didn’t care to check if there were people still inside the buildings. Run away, kid. It’s the best thing you and I can do.”

She runs at the sound of another crash, and this time Changmin isn’t able to stop her. He just sits there, watching the flames consume everything he once knew – everything he once had, burning it all to the ground. He cries until he doesn’t, until his face is so swollen he can feel it without touching it, until the flames die down and all that is left are the ashes of a lifetime.

His legs are numb when he gets on his feet, his core feeling empty as he turns around to leave. He doesn’t know where to go, doesn’t _have_ anywhere to go, really, lets rain pour heavily over his head as his feet carry him through the deserted streets. He thinks about going to Chanhee's place, wonders if he would be able to allow himself in somehow, if Chanhee would be mad if he knew he was breaking in.

Was that place still his?

Changmin doesn’t try checking.

He walks to the outskirts of what was once his neighborhood, until he finds another one that had been left to perish in poverty. Walking into a building that sits unlit at the end of an alley, Changmin sighs as silence welcomes him. He is shivering by the time he has a roof over his head, light splashes of rain now only hitting him as they come in from the open entryway.

He stands in front of the stairs, stares, listens. He can only hear the pouring rain outside and his own breathing, as well as the chattering of his teeth. Changmin knows that, if he were to not be alone in this building, he would be able to hear any signs of life even from floors down below, just like he used to hear every little movement coming from the girl living floors above his.

He takes a moment to take his surroundings in, stares at the paint chipped walls as he slowly makes his way up. There are papers scattered on the floor, on the steps, faded out by time, forgotten and likely never even read. As he makes it to the first floor, he stops, his heart stopping beating as well, even if for a split second.

There is a pamphlet glued to the wall directly in front of him, looking fresher than the ones under his feet. His blood rushes and his heart starts racing again as he looks down the long hallway, trying to see in the dark. He calls out for someone, anyone, fully expecting to hear light footsteps as they try to hide or heavy footfalls as they run away from him – or at him.

Silence is the only thing that greets him.

He reaches for the paper, rips it off the wall, eyes the shades of reds and yellows and black. _Warriors of youth,_ it reads in big and bold letters, _join the wild ones_ in smaller writing right below it. Changmin runs his fingers over the paper, glances up and down the hallway once again just to be sure he really is by himself. Carefully folding it, he places the pamphlet on the inner pocket of his jacket before keeping on moving to look for a place to sleep.

He moves two floors above and forces the door to one of the apartments open, coughing when dust kicks up at the sudden gush of wind. The place is bigger than his old shelter had been, old furniture decaying from time and disuse, though he knows it is better than sleeping on the floor. He figures the old couch resting against the wall had once been able to open into a bed, but he decides it is best if he doesn’t try doing it himself.

Changmin rests against the old cushions, trying hard to get his body to stop shivering as he brings his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. His back, his lungs, his head all scream at him, exhaustion finally catching up as it licks his bones along with the cold.

He feels like he could cry again, the images of fire and burning buildings vivid behind his lids every time he closes his eyes. He is tired, so tired of it, all of it, of the shitty life he was born into and will probably die in that he almost wishes he had been inside his shelter at the time demolition started. Maybe he wouldn’t even have known what happened as the building collapsed on top of him, as the flames ate him up and turned him into ashes as well.

For the first time in a while, Changmin doesn’t think of Chanhee's smile as he succumbs to sleep. He thinks of red instead, of a quiet revolution lurking in the shadows, watching him, following him. He thinks of the paper tucked away in his jacket, of how heavy it feels in its weightlessness.

He thinks that maybe, somewhere out there, there is something bigger waiting for him.

🔥

Changmin feels like an intruder in his own body.

For the days that follow, he feels like he is watching someone else’s life happen with his body as a host. He doesn’t feel like himself, whoever himself had once been, mind and body numb as he roams the streets, back to the building, into other apartments. Every apartment is just as abandoned as the last one, with signs that life had once been but isn’t anymore.

He sits in the middle of the living room floor of his apartment of choice for the hour, stolen chocolate bar weighing heavily in his jacket’s pocket, and wonders. He wonders how things were when the building wasn’t vacant, how it had been to live in a place where you could have some semblance of community – of life, really. He rests his forehead on his knees and closes his eyes, tries to picture how it had been to have the front door flying open as life walked right through it.

Now, the doors are left to rust in their hinges, silence the only thing filling up the empty spaces.

Empty – that’s how he feels. It has been years since he last felt this hollow, and while the motives are different, they are still similar, somehow. The first time was when he was a child and his mother was taken away from him – sadness turned into anger, anger then turned into emptiness, a void that he couldn’t measure at such a young age. He still doesn’t think he could measure it now, but he knows he goes through the stages of grief much faster this time around.

As Friday rolls around and he wakes up with a sore back and a pounding headache, on the floor of yet another different apartment, Changmin accepts there isn’t much he can do about this. Maybe he could settle for one of the apartments that still hasn’t fallen apart, could make it his new shelter as he starts over again. It’s not like things were ever going to get better for him, anyway.

When Changmin steps out of the building for the day, it isn’t raining for once. He can barely feel the sun peeking through the clouds, but it is warm enough that he isn’t immediately shivering as he makes his way down the street. He takes his time, peeks into every building and around every corner, just to make sure he is on his own in this forgotten part of town.

As much as he doesn’t want to admit, for the past two nights, Changmin has been afraid. Not of being alone – that he has grown used to, but of _not_ being alone. Afraid that he would turn a corner in the dark and something would sneak up to him, stab him to death or something in similar fashion.

Usually, he isn’t like this.

He feels like he has trained himself long ago not to fear death or anything he could touch with his own hands, but something has changed. The pamphlet weighs about the same as a ton of bricks in his jacket, still neatly tucked again, and it unsettles him to the point of shaking himself awake in the middle of the night. He thinks he hears footsteps walking down the hallways, thinks he sees the faint light of a flashlight under the crack of a door, but every time he goes out to check, he still finds himself to be completely alone.

This time, he doesn’t think it is his homegrown paranoia playing tricks on him. It feels like playing hide and seek with something that can see you but that you cannot see, like chasing something you can almost feel at the tips of your fingers but still grasp into nothing when you reach out for it. Changmin is tired, but it is Friday, and he finally feels like he can breathe a little again.

Crossing the city takes much longer than it did before from where he finds himself now, but he welcomes the walk as a good excuse to exercise. There are little signs of life that he can see before he crosses the bridge, hooded up figures keeping themselves in the shadows as they scurry from one place to another. At the other side of the river, however, everything blooms to life, wide smiles almost as blinding as the sunlight reflecting on the mirrored walls of the skyscrapers scattered along the riverside.

Changmin doesn’t have a watch or a phone he can check the time on, but he knows by how bright it still is outside that it certainly isn’t even close to five. He walks up to the pub and then right past it, down the alley and to the next main street. He retraces the path Chanhee had dragged him through, and he almost laughs at how paranoid he must have seemed that day.

He wishes he could turn back time, if only to make things go a little bit different.

Changmin only stops when he finds himself by Chanhee's front door – or what used to be, he doesn’t really know. He looks up at the small window, recalls how it had been their only source of light that night, feels his heart clench just a little bit. He steps up to the window and gets on his tippy-toes, straining his neck so he can take a glimpse inside. The futon is still there, along with the shelf Chanhee piled his things on, but every other sign of him is nowhere to be seen.

He steps back, takes a deep breath. Changmin tries for the door, hoping he will find it open but knowing he won’t – the doorknob jiggles loudly, and he thinks of not forcing it open, but then he tries and it opens up for him. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, his blood suddenly boiling in his veins as he steps inside and clicks the door shut behind him.

Changmin finds himself in the middle of the room, staring at the otherwise empty space, dust collecting on every surface with the absence of Chanhee's belongings. If he stares at the futon hard enough, he can see Chanhee's figure still sitting there – looking small, deep in thought. The image goes away with the blink of an eye, and he can’t really help the way his heart sinks at it.

He goes for the bathroom, pushes the door open and heaves a sigh. Chanhee's soap still sits by the sink, cotton-scented and forgotten. Crossing the small space with a single stride, Changmin runs his hand over the porcelain, to the bar of soap and over the tap. The steel is cool under his touch, and he can’t help but feel surprised when he tries to turn it on and running water comes rushing into the sink.

Changmin doesn’t like feeling like a creep, but he takes an opportunity when he sees one. He strips of his clothes, neatly places them right outside the bathroom door and runs the shower. The water is still as cold as it had been, but the feeling of the weak spray hitting his back feels nicer than most things he has ever felt in his life.

He can feel his chest tighten, can feel the pressure behind his eyes and the weakening of his knees but he holds on, if only for just a little bit longer.

He pats himself dry with his shirt and puts his clothes back on, feeling a little less like shit but still empty as fuck. He realizes, perhaps a bit too late, that it does more harm than good to be hanging around Chanhee's place like this – with the ghost of his memories haunting his every step. So, he gears up and leaves, closing the door behind him with a soft click and a heavy weight in his heart.

The walk back to the pub takes longer than he expects, his mind a thousand miles away, wherever it is that Chanhee is. Changmin wouldn’t consider himself lovesick – couldn’t know what the definition of it would be, actually, but he knows he is not lovesick. Wouldn’t it be natural for anyone to feel this way? To feel like every semblance of normalcy has been pulled like a rug from under your feet.

Changmin stands under the neon sign of the pub, waiting for the clock to tick by. He doesn’t know what time it is still, doesn’t know how long he waits for, and his feet are starting to go numb when the back door finally creaks open. When he looks up, he finds Kevin with a pile of books and music sheets in his hands.

“You really came,” Kevin huffs out, struggling a bit to turn around on his heels.

“I said I would,” Changmin mumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets, feeling heat rise up the back of his neck.

Kevin glances into the pub, makes a gesture with his head, and Changmin waits with bated breath. He doesn’t know what to expect, but a boy with bright red hair walks out, eyeing him suspiciously. Changmin almost backs off out of reflex, his fingers digging into his thighs in his pocket, but he holds his gaze instead.

“Changmin, this is Sunwoo,” Kevin says after clearing his throat, stepping a bit closer to the other. “Sunwoo, Changmin. Friend, not foe.”

“How do you know?” the boy, Sunwoo, asks, not taking his eyes off Changmin for a second. “How do you know you can trust him?”

Kevin shoulders him lightly, clutching onto his books so they won’t topple over. “Chanhee did, so I think you can, too.” Kevin’s gaze shifts to Changmin, a light frown settling between his brows. “Sunwoo can take you to where Chanhee is.”

Changmin squints at Sunwoo, seizing him up. “How do you know him?”

Sunwoo scoffs, raising a brow and cocking his head to the side. “Same way that you do.”

Changmin feels something inside him stir, something that is so akin to anger but not quite. It isn’t something he is familiar with, something he hasn’t felt before and hopes to never feel again. It is unsettling, a little bit disturbing, the way Sunwoo doesn’t drop his gaze, won’t let his guard down.

It makes Kevin audibly sigh.

“Come on, Sunwoo. Just do it.”

Sunwoo squints harder but ultimately nods, making Changmin feel like he can finally breathe again. He doesn’t know if he should trust the boy before him, but if he can take him to Chanhee, then he figures it is worth giving it a try.

Kevin turns to leave, and as he does, a sheet of paper slips off one of his books. Changmin follows it with his eyes, watches as a blur of red glides down to the floor, and once it stops, Changmin feels his heart stop as well. It is like things around him are happening in slow motion – the way Sunwoo's head follows his gaze, and then Kevin’s, and when Changmin looks up at him, there is horror filling his eyes.

 _Warriors of youth,_ the paper reads right up at him, and it slingshots him right back into reality. He bends down to pick it up, fingers slightly trembling as he does so, the pocket of his jacket back to weighing the equivalent of a ton of bricks. His heart is hammering in his chest, crushing his bones as his eyes roam over the paper and then snap up at Kevin.

“Kevin, where did you get this?” his voice comes out shaky, and he can’t be bothered by it in the slightest. He can see a million words written on Kevin’s face and none at all as his eyes flick from Changmin's face to the paper, then back to his face. Changmin clutches the paper just a little bit tighter. “Did you make this?”

Kevin tries to balance the stack of books in his hold in one arm, tries to snatch it out of his hand, but Changmin steps out of reach. His eyes flits to Sunwoo then, and as much as he tries to look unfazed, like he doesn’t know what the hell is going on, Changmin can still see the tight press of his lips and the light furrow of his brows.

He swallows thickly.

“Answer me,” he presses on, firm.

There is sweat beading at Kevin’s hairline when he finally manages to step into his bubble and snatch the pamphlet out of his hold. There are a million things swimming in Kevin’s eyes, but there is one in particular Changmin knows how to read too well: fear. There is fear in his eyes as he shoves the paper between his books again, as he stumbles back and his eyes flit between Sunwoo and himself.

“If you still want to know after tonight,” there is an edge to Kevin’s voice Changmin never thought he would ever hear, “ask Sunwoo about it.”

Sunwoo makes a disgruntled noise at the back of his throat. “What—”

Kevin stares him hard, and Sunwoo snaps his mouth shut, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“I’ll take responsibility for it,” Kevin looks almost somber as he speaks, his voice dropping an octave.

Before either Changmin or Sunwoo can even say anything, Kevin turns on his heels and runs off, clutching his books closer to his body. Changmin's mind is running a thousand miles an hour, his heart thundering in his chest as Kevin’s figure rounds a corner and disappears into the city. His hand comes up to his jacket, his pocket heavier than ever.

Changmin blinks, confused.

Changmin has always been aware of the discrepancy between the rich and the poor, as it has always been evident every time he crosses the bridge, but _this_ – this is a little too much.

Sunwoo silently walks a couple steps ahead, going up hills and further into money-lathered lands. Changmin can’t quite understand why people need such big houses that seem to scream luxury at your face, though he figures that maybe that is something money does to you. He can’t quite grasp his thoughts around the idea of being able to have anything you would ever want and more – doesn’t think there will ever be a day he actually understands the concept of living comfortably.

It’s not something he’s ever had, or ever will have. Which is fine, he thinks. Living his life as he has always known until the day he eventually dies should be fine.

There is something about Sunwoo Changmin can’t understand.

Maybe it is the ease with which he navigates the neighborhood, or how he doesn’t bother to spare him a glance or a word the entire way – not that Changmin does, either, but it is unsettling at best. He almost wants to ask Sunwoo again how he knows Chanhee – how he knows Kevin, and why they trust him that much, but the attitude he was given on his first attempt is enough telling that Sunwoo isn’t quite willing to answer him yet.

He doesn’t understand why Sunwoo would agree to take him to Chanhee when he doesn’t know Changmin at all. Is it because of what Kevin said – that Chanhee trusts him, and therefore they should, too?

_Kevin._

Why did he look so nervous and suspicious at the pamphlet, and why did he refuse to answer Changmin's questions? What does Sunwoo _know?_ It must be enough that Kevin trusts him to tell Changmin everything once all this is over.

Changmin can almost feel his blood coursing through his veins.

“This is the place,” is the first thing Sunwoo says after Kevin leaves them, and it is only then that Changmin realizes they have halted to a stop. It takes him a while to register just how ridiculously big the property is – and securely gated, without fail. “I know how to get us in.”

“Huh?”

Sunwoo sighs. “You see that massive tree over there?” he points to a tree close to the edge of the property, casting shade under the streetlamps. “We can climb it and jump over the fence without sounding the alarms. That is, if you really want to see him.”

“I do,” Changmin is quick to answer. “I’ll do it.”

“Follow me, then. And don’t fuck this up.”

Changmin finds it almost fascinating to watch Sunwoo climb a tree – this cool-looking, seemingly collected kid just gripping onto the bark and pulling himself up to the higher branches, enough that one could jump over to the other side. He isn’t any worse, really, years of jumping over walls to run away from cops giving him enough dexterity to do the same without getting so much as a scratch.

Sunwoo stares at him the entire time, likely waiting for him to fail, a slight raise to his brows when he doesn’t.

Everything is quiet, save for the slight ruffling of leaves when they move around the branches and the very faint sound of music coming from the house. Sunwoo brings his finger to his lips, reminding Changmin to keep quiet, and when he deems it safe enough, he motions to the branches and then the ground. The fall will be a high one, but Changmin knows he is capable of doing it without breaking his legs in half.

Sunwoo counts to one, two, three and then he jumps, falling silently on the other side of the wall, save for a light thud when his feet hit the ground. He looks up at Changmin and counts again, Changmin's heart beating in his throat when Sunwoo reaches three and he jumps. He lands safely, thankfully, though his feet and ankle still hurt from impact.

He assesses their surroundings, the vast garden ahead of them leading to the backdoor of the mansion. It makes his chest tighten – he should feel relieved that Chanhee is getting a shot of living a better life in a place like this, but all he can feel is nausea stirring in his stomach and bile rising up to his throat.

“The garden cameras aren’t working,” Sunwoo says with a whisper, pointing at a camera right above their heads. “You can see the red light isn’t blinking.”

“How do you know all this?” Changmin whispers back, heart thrumming hard in his pulse point. “How do you know he’s here? How to get here and in?”

Sunwoo doesn’t answer, and Changmin didn’t really expect him to.

“There’s a blind spot under one of the cameras by the back deck,” he says instead, “and if we’re careful enough we can take a look inside through the kitchen.”

The closer they get to the house, the louder the music gets. All the lights seem to be on, and for a brief moment Changmin wonders if Sunwoo is just luring him in so he can get caught and sent to jail for trespassing. It doesn’t seem like the case, but a voice in the back of his head insists on telling him it is still a possibility.

Sunwoo pushes him against the wall, pressing his index finger to his lips to once again tell him to keep quiet, before moving to the opposite side of the window. Changmin can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he stares at Sunwoo, at his flaming red hair framing his features as he casts a glance inside, and then Changmin does the same.

There doesn’t seem to be anyone inside from where they are standing, but with the way the lights are still on, Changmin figures someone will be walking in anytime soon. There is the sound of boisterous laughter, of glasses clinking muffled by loud music; Changmin wonders how it is like to be inside, to mingle with people of that caliber, to have so much money on your name you wouldn’t feel like an intruder in a party like this.

He wonders how Chanhee feels right now, wonders if he still has that brilliant smile of his on his face, if his eyes still spark when he laughs, or when he gets carried away talking about something he genuinely enjoys.

Changmin doesn’t know how much time passes since then, but it is a while until the kitchen sees any signs of life. When it does, Changmin can feel his heart shoot up to his throat and stop beating entirely – he would recognize Chanhee's head of pink hair from miles away, he is sure of it.

He doesn’t expect to see Chanhee stumbling into the kitchen, looking more distressed than he should. He doesn’t expect to see Chanhee dressed in a glitter dress so tiny it barely reaches below his ass, doesn’t expect to see his body covered in speckles of gold that glisten under the light. He certainly doesn’t expect to see a man dressed in a black suit follow him in and push him against the nearest counter, his hand caressing Chanhee's thigh and almost slipping under his dress.

Changmin feels like he is going to vomit.

Chanhee manages to push the man away, and Changmin thinks he can see his eyes welling up as he stumbles towards the back door and walks out to the deck. It almost feels like slow motion, the way Sunwoo turns around to look at him, just as his hands come up to wipe at his face. Changmin feels like he can’t breathe, feels like Chanhee is going to disappear before his eyes if he so much as blinks for a second too long.

As Changmin takes a step forward, the deck floorboards creak under his feet, and it is only then that Chanhee realizes he is not on his own. Surprise is clear in his face when he sees them, a blush creeping up to his face when he turns his back to them to dab at his cheeks.

“What are you two doing here?” there is an edge to his voice that shouldn’t be there, surprise written on his face that Changmin wishes he didn’t have to see. Now that he is closer, Changmin can see the glitter on his lids, the blush on his cheeks and how glossy his lips look – can see the red marks around his wrists even as he tries to hide them behind his back.

Changmin takes a step forward, then another, crossing the space between them. He reaches out and curls his fingers around Chanhee’s bicep, pulling him in until their bodies crash and he locks him into a hug. He can feel Chanhee’s heart beating against his chest, his breathing coming out in heavy puffs where it fans against his neck, his hands hesitant when he smoothes them down his back. And then his head drops to the crook of his neck, his body shaking as he sobs, albeit quietly, into his shoulder.

The press of his lips to Chanhee’s bare shoulder is a light one, one that makes Chanhee shiver and his fingers tighten on his jacket, and Changmin tries really hard not to notice the slight tremble there is to them. This is not how he expected to find Chanhee – he wanted to see him bathed in gold, living his life in luxury like he deserves.

Changmin hadn’t expected to see him like _this._

“What are you doing here?” Chanhee repeats, quieter this time.

“I was selfish,” Changmin admits, feeling his chest heavy. He is the one to pull away first, cupping Chanhee’s face with both hands, gently thumbing at his cheeks. Changmin realizes he hates seeing Chanhee cry. “I wanted to see you one last time.”

Chanhee looks straight into his eyes, searching, his brows drawing into a light furrow. He averts his eyes then, looks past over his shoulder and at Sunwoo, who seems to not have moved an inch since getting there.

“You brought him here?” Chanhee takes two steps back, trying to get a better look at the two of them. He looks back at Changmin, his eyes hardening. “How do you know each other?”

“Don’t be mad at him,” Changmin softly whispers. “We just met today. I asked Kevin where to find you when I didn’t see you on Tuesday, and he said Sunwoo could take me to you.”

He watches Chanhee’s expression change, from hard to almost soft and straight into worried. His lips press into a thin line when he shakes his head and takes another step back, getting further away from him. Changmin can feel his chest tighten.

“You can’t be here,” Chanhee says, patting his cheeks dry. He takes a deep breath in, then out, tries his best to collect himself. “The both of you need to leave, or else things won’t go well.”

“Is this the life you wanna be living?” Sunwoo says then, floorboards creaking under his shifting weight as he steps closer to them. There is an edge to his voice, and when Changmin glances back at him, his face is unreadable. “Is it anything like you thought it’d be?”

When Changmin looks back at Chanhee, Chanhee is completely quiet.

“I told you it wouldn’t be,” Sunwoo continues, his body now almost pressing against Changmin's back. Changmin isn’t sure he is following the conversation. “And I hate seeing you like this.”

“Please help me,” Chanhee’s voice shakes, his hands curling into fists at his sides. His nails scrape against the dress so hard it almost tears it apart. He looks at Changmin, his eyes glistening with fresh, unshed tears. “Please get me out of here.”

Changmin cups his face again, this time bringing him into a kiss. He can feel his own breath shake, Chanhee’s lips tasting like alcohol when he kisses him back. It is desperate but unhurried, Chanhee licking into his mouth to kiss him deeper and harder, hands desperate as they ball into his clothes.

He doesn’t want to admit how much he has missed this.

“I promise,” Changmin whispers against his lips. “I promise I’ll get you out of here.”

“Give us two weeks,” Sunwoo says and Changmin startles. He turns to face him, surprise clear on his face, but Sunwoo isn’t looking at him. “Exactly two weeks from today, we will be back to get you.”

Changmin frowns. “That’s too long.”

“And _what exactly_ do you know?” Sunwoo raises a brow at him, and it almost feels like a slap to the face. “We need to do things properly if you don’t want to have all of us killed. They see him as their property now, he can’t leave whenever he wishes to.”

“It’s fine,” Chanhee pats him lightly, reassuring, his voice bordering desperate. “He’s right. Two weeks is good, I can endure until then.”

His frown deepens. “Are you sure?”

Chanhee nods, offering him a small smile, his fingers brushing his hair away from his face. Changmin leans into his touch, his lids fluttering shut.

“I’ll be fine,” Chanhee says, even though he knows it is a lie. It makes Changmin’s heart sink. “Take good care of yourself until we see each other again.”

And Changmin thinks back to the week prior, to the last time he left Chanhee with promises of seeing him again. He thinks about how small Chanhee had seemed then, how much smaller he seems now, like he is curling into himself and retreating to his thoughts. He thinks about how cold the night had been and how soft Chanhee’s lips had felt against his.

It feels so similar to tonight that Changmin doesn’t want to let him go another time.

“Changmin,” Chanhee says, voice soft. Changmin knows what’s coming next, and he doesn’t want to hear it. “You need to leave. Both of you need to. I need to head back inside, they’re going to come looking for me if I don’t.”

“Okay,” he ultimately says, heaving a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Chanhee gives him a weak smile. “Now, go. Hurry. I’ll open the garage gates for you, but you have to be quick.”

Sunwoo wraps his hand around his wrist, tight, and starts to run before he even gets to say anything. He has no other option but to follow, his thighs burning and his feet aching as they collide against the ground. When they reach the gates, it is barely open; Changmin almost screams as he watches Sunwoo throw himself into the crack and squeeze past it.

His heart is thundering in his chest when he does the same, and to his almost paralyzing fear, he isn’t met with a waiting Sunwoo on the other side. Changmin looks around, panicked, and instead finds Sunwoo running downhill, waving his arm hard at him for him to follow. He runs faster, follows Sunwoo downhill, round a corner, runs until they slink away from money-lathered streets and into barely lit alleys.

They are both panting when Sunwoo collapses on the curb, completely winded. There are about a million things going through Changmin’s head, a million others that he wants to ask, but with his lungs screaming at him, he can’t help but collapse as well. His heart is beating loudly in his ears, his senses heightened as his blood rushes with adrenaline through his veins.

“Tell me,” Changmin breathes out, voice trapped in the back of his throat. Sunwoo lifts his head ever so slowly, carefully eyeing him with his lips pressed into a thin line. Changmin licks his own lips, trying to quell the nervous anxiety bubbling up in his stomach. “Tell me everything there is to know.”

Sunwoo doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he folds his hands between his spread legs, his gaze getting more intense with each passing second. Changmin feels like he is being assessed, like Sunwoo is judging if he is worthy of knowing anything at all or not – and maybe he is.

“Please,” he insists, heart shooting up to his throat. “I don’t have anything else to lose.”

“Okay,” Sunwoo says with a nod, drawing his knees up to his chest. “If he trusts you, then I will, too.”

🔥

It is well into the night when Sunwoo is done talking. Changmin should fear being out so late, should know better than to be so far away from his shelter, but this time, none of that seems to matter. The longer Sunwoo talks, the harder he feels his heart beating in his ribcage – he tells Changmin about the people who live in the shadows, neglected and forgotten about by authorities. People just like Changmin himself, who grew up with a name and nothing else— and, at times, not even with a name to call theirs.

He tells him about the rebels, who act in the shadows when no one can see and the city is long asleep. People who live and fight for the broken ones, who fight the system in inconspicuous ways; people who are willing to risk their own lives in order to save humanity from the cruel society they live in.

“They call us the wild ones,” Sunwoo says, a bitter laugh on the tip of his tongue when he tips his head back to stare up at the night sky. “They say we’re defects, that we deserve everything we get – which is, to say, nothing. They will do anything for money, for pleasure, anything to keep on living the illusion that they are going to reign this world forever.”

He pauses, his fingers curling into tight fists.

“It’s disgusting,” his voice drops to a whisper and his head dips again. His eyes are burning fire when he stares at a Changmin. “And things won’t be like this for much longer.”

“What do you mean by us?” Changmin feels a bit lost, and confusion must be clear in his face. He reaches into his jacket, into its inner pocket and to the neatly folded paper. He takes it out and unfolds it, showing it up to Sunwoo. “Are you a part of this? Is this why Kevin had this on him? Is he also in on it?”

“Yes,” though he doesn’t say what to, Changmin feels it is a yes to all of his questions.

“How do you know him?” Sunwoo raises a brow at him. Changmin clears his throat. “Kevin, I mean.”

“By chance,” Sunwoo says with a sigh. “I’m not like them— _like you._ I wasn’t born into this. I used to have a golden roof over my head and everything money could buy.” He laughs bitterly. “I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and I hated every second of it.”

Changmin can feel his heart almost slowing to a stop. He wants to get on his feet and run, wants to hide out from this stranger he doesn’t really know; but his ass is glued to the concrete sidewalk under them, and his eyes don’t waver from Sunwoo's face.

“I ran away from them,” Sunwoo continues. “I stole as much money from my family as I could and got the fuck out of there. Now they act like they’ve never had a son, which I think works out great.”

“Why would you—” Changmin pauses and swallows thickly. He doesn’t know how to formulate his question, so he leaves it at that. He can hear Sunwoo's voice echoing in his head – _is it anything like you thought it’d be?_ Now that he knows, it makes sense as to why he would ask Chanhee that.

“I don’t agree with their ideals, if you can even call it that. I don’t think it is fair to watch people die every day so the rich can remain rich while so many others don’t have a single thing.” Sunwoo heaves a sigh. “Life is far from being perfect right now, but at least I can feel like I’m doing the right thing.”

“Do you regret it?” Changmin asks, because he doesn’t know what it would ever feel like to go from having everything straight to nothing.

Sunwoo shakes his head.

“The night of, I bought enough soju to give me alcohol poisoning and kill me that very night. I met Eric by accident, and I honestly thought he had been lurking in the shadows to rob me. I’d have simply given him my money had he asked for it.”

“And he didn’t?”

He shakes his head again. “He just wanted my empty bottles. I was so drunk I think he took pity on me and brought me back to the shelter, and that’s how I met everyone else. When I sobered up the following morning, that is.”

Changmin nods. “And by everyone else, you mean…?”

“The rebels,” an easy smile falls on Sunwoo's lips, “the wild ones. Kevin, Juyeon, Jacob. The most deranged people I have ever met, in the best way.”

Changmin doesn’t know how to take it all in. After all this time, an entire life of thinking he was alone, that he would die alone and that there was no other way for things to be—had he just not been looking in the right places? Had he tried harder, looked deeper, would he have stumbled across them sooner?

“Was it a coincidence?” he asks, crumbling the pamphlet in his hold as he holds it up to Sunwoo's face again. “Me, finding this. Was it just a coincidence?”

“Yes,” Sunwoo nods. “But, also, not really. We caught wind of the news that the government was reclaiming a sheltered area, and we had to be quick to act. We didn’t have much time. We set out for silent recruitment that very night, spreading news on every possible new shelter area. We couldn’t have known you’d be affected by it.”

“You didn’t know me,” Changmin adds, and Sunwoo nods.

“The connections are messy. Kevin knew of you but nothing more than what Chanhee told him. _A pretty thief with too kind a heart for such a damaged soul,_ is what he said. I went to see Kevin play one night, and that’s how I met Chanhee. He never told me of you.”

“Do you like him?” Changmin blurts out before he can even think to filter out his thoughts. It hits him a beat too late, and he can feel his neck burning around the collar of his shirt, as well as his entire face. “Fuck, sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

“I am not jealous, if that’s what you want to know,” his tone isn’t unkind, and Changmin feels like he can breathe a little. “I noticed how he’d changed, you know, but I didn’t think it was my place to ask, and Kevin never told me anything about it either – well, at least until he asked me to take you to Chanhee, that is. If you’re good to him, then that’s enough to me.”

Silence hovers over them like a sharp knife, and for a while Changmin doesn’t know what to say. He drops the topic, feeling the back of his neck burn a little with shame and something else he can’t quite put a name on. He doesn’t look at Sunwoo – not directly, at least, and instead stares at where his shoes kick against the asphalt.

“What now?” his fingers toy with the fraying of his jeans on his knees, voice quieter than usual, and he doesn’t elaborate.

Sunwoo is quiet for a moment too long, and when Changmin looks up, he finds the boy staring at him with wonder in his eyes. Changmin wants to ask what is it about, if he has something on his face or if he has said something wrong, but instead he finds his eyes flitting down to Sunwoo's lips when he runs his tongue over them, wetting them with a sheen layer of spit, then back up at his eyes when he presses them into a thin line.

There is a weird sort of charged energy between them, and Changmin can’t exactly tell why.

“I’m taking you back,” Sunwoo answers eventually, looking back up at the sky. “If you want to go, that is.”

“I want to help Chanhee,” Changmin is sincere in his answer, and he thinks the hum Sunwoo lets out is enough telling that he understands. “I need to get him out of there.”

“Okay,” Sunwoo nods, still not looking at him again. “That’s a start. We can work from there and see how things go.”

Sunwoo pushes himself on his feet, stretching out a hand for Changmin to take. Changmin hesitates, wipes his hands clean on his pants before taking it in his, allowing Sunwoo to pull him to his feet as well. He doesn’t ask _what now_ again.

He doesn’t know how long they walk for. He can’t even recognize which part of town they are at, with Sunwoo slinking into narrow and unlit alleyways, taking shortcuts Changmin wouldn’t have ever imagined existed if he were to walk these streets by himself. It makes him wonder how long has it been since Sunwoo's falling out with his family, for him to have gone to a silver spooned bastard to knowing this much.

Changmin wonders if this is a mistake. He wonders if he is being too trusting, too caring. He knows he is putting himself in danger’s way by doing this – by risking everything he has ever been comfortable with in order to save someone else that isn’t himself.

And then he remembers the look in Chanhee's face, how pained he had seemed, and Changmin feels anger boil in his stomach. He knows that, if anything, anger is a familiar enough emotion to push him forward and keep him going, so he allows it to keep pushing his feet forward.

Sunwoo is silent all of the way, and Changmin doesn’t try to fill in the emptiness with uncomfortable banter. He just trails along, eyes trained on Sunwoo's broad shoulders, his red hair, his hands that he shoves in his pockets. Changmin doesn’t understand how someone can act so laid back and still be so alert at the same time, his muscles tensing if Changmin so much as steps the wrong way behind him.

It feels like hours have passed when Sunwoo finally walks into a building. The building sits at the end of a blind alley, deterioration on the walls and closed windows. It almost feels like they slip through a slit in the fabric of reality, where the air feels stuffier and time moves differently.

Sunwoo stops at the top of a staircase leading downwards to basement level, and Changmin nearly runs into his back. He spins on his heels, finally looking at Changmin for the first time since they started walking.

“I need to preface you some things so you don’t fuck things up from the get-go,” Sunwoo's face is stone cold, a light frown settled between his brows. He doesn’t elaborate any further until Changmin nods in response. “First, Jacob is not going to be happy to see you – don’t take it too personally. He’s nice after a while, just give him some time to swallow down the idea of you being here. Don’t get on Juyeon's nerves if he’s got a blade in hand, and don’t stare too hard at Eric’s face.”

Changmin frowns. “What’s wrong with his face?”

Sunwoo purses his lips. “He’s got a nasty scar slitting down his left eye. If he likes you enough, with time, he’ll tell you what happened. Not my place to tell.”

Changmin nods.

“You already know Kevin, sort of, so I’m not sure what else to tell you. He’s just—he can be very reserved, I suppose,” Sunwoo nods, mostly to himself. “He’s the only one who can get through Jacob easily, and vice versa. Don’t tell them I said this, but they’re kind of cute together.”

“I have a question,” Changmin reaches for his wrist when he turns around, stopping him in his tracks before he starts descending the stairs. Sunwoo glances back, arching a brow at him, and it makes him feel all too nervous. “Am I—am I not supposed to be here?”

“No,” Sunwoo says matter-of-factly, “but it will be fine. At least Kevin must be aware I’m bringing you back, or else he wouldn’t have told me to tell you shit. We’ve got water and a bit of stolen electricity down there; it’s not much, but I’m sure it’s better than whatever you had at your shelters.”

Changmin doesn’t need to confirm that it, indeed, is. With a final nod, Sunwoo turns on his heels again and makes his way down, with Changmin trailing after him not too far behind. The stairs lead them down a long, poorly lit hallway, with a single door at the very back end of it.

Sunwoo stops in front of the door and knocks a rhythmic pattern on it. It is a while until Changmin can hear the sound of keys and chains clanking, the locks on the door unlatching right before it starts creaking open. Changmin doesn’t know why he is holding his breath.

He sees Kevin first, greeting them with an unreadable expression on his face. He is then greeted by a large room, spacious and mostly empty, and then three other boys who turn to look at them. Sunwoo’s words echo in his head – that he’s not supposed to be here, that Jacob won’t like to see him.

Closest to them after Kevin is a boy with ash black hair and a scar slitting down his face – Eric, Changmin supposes. Save for how nasty the scar looks, the boy seems nice, for the most part; at least the expression he puts on isn’t unwelcoming, and it helps Changmin’s racing heart to slow down a little.

It doesn’t last long.

The sound of metal scraping against the floor is startling loud, and Changmin takes a step back when a boy, no taller than him but _very_ intimidating-looking, pushes himself off the chair.

“Sunwoo,” his voice is cold and sharp like a blade, and Changmin can only see the way Sunwoo flinches at the sound of it because he’s standing too close to him. “Didn’t I fucking tell you not to bring in strays?”

Kevin leaves the door without sparing them a second glance, striding to the other boy’s side as fast as he can. He doesn’t seem alarmed, but the way he places a placating hand on his chest while the other curls around his wrist is enough telling that he is anything but not alarmed.

“Jake,” his voice is soft but edged with tension when he leans in to talk, “this is the guy I told you about.”

The boy – Jacob, Changmin safely assumes, tears his eyes away from them to look at Kevin instead, the tension never leaving his shoulders. Changmin can see the moment his jaw locks, can see him search Kevin’s eyes for something none of them are made aware of. And then he’s looking at them with hard eyes again, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I know you don’t like outcasts,” Sunwoo says, and it is the most serious Changmin has heard him sound all night, “but he’s not gonna rat us out. He doesn’t even have a place to go.”

“This is not a daycare center,” Jacob says, harsh. Changmin wants to curl into himself.

“We need to save Chanhee,” Sunwoo continues, like Jacob’s words don’t affect him at all. Maybe they don’t. “Kevin, we need to rescue him.”

Kevin frowns. “What do you mean?”

“He’s not safe,” Changmin replies instead, feeling his voice shake and his heart threaten to shatter his ribcage. He can barely hear himself with how loud his pulse beats in his ears. “He’s not safe, and I need to get him out of there. Sunwoo said he’d help me.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Sunwoo adds, walking further in and closing the door behind them. “We have two weeks to get things ready.”

“Explain yourself properly,” Jacob adds with a frown. “Do you expect to walk in here, tell us to do things and think we’ll do it just because?”

“Jacob,” Kevin’s voice is hard, almost sounding like a warning, and when Jacob turns to look at him again, his frown deepens.

“What? Are you gonna tell me that I’m wrong now?” he raises a brow at Kevin, challenging. “Hm? Have I not done everything in my power to protect us? Keep us safe? I do the impossible for everyone here; I think I deserve some decent explanations, don’t I?”

“They’re abusing him in that place,” Sunwoo barks, a scream, and it’s the first time Changmin hears his voice falter, that he doesn’t sound like his overly confident self. “We saw it with our own eyes, okay? I can’t let him stay there.”

Changmin feels like he could throw up.

“Kevin, please,” Sunwoo’s voice drops to a shaky whisper. “We can’t let him stay there.”

“Alright,” Kevin says with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his tired face. “Okay. We’ll figure something out.”

In what feels like a very dramatic but also appropriate gesture, Jacob storms out of the room and into an adjacent one, slamming the door shut behind him. Kevin sighs again, excuses himself and goes after him, closing the door with a softer click this time. Changmin wants to turn on his heels and leave, doesn’t feel that it’s fair for him to just come into their space and mess things up like this, but then Sunwoo wraps a gentle hand around his wrist, gives him an easy smile and he finds himself unable to move.

“Don’t take it personally,” the boy with midnight blue hair says from where he sits on the floor, close to Eric. From what Sunwoo had previously told him, it must be Juyeon. “It’s been like this every time.”

“Hi,” Eric says, a little chirper, with a small wave of his hand. “Changmin, right?”

Sunwoo tugs him forward by the wrist, dragging him over to them. He still feels his heart racing in his chest, but without Jacob’s intimidating presence, he feels like he can breathe a little easier. Sunwoo tugs him down until they are sitting on the floor next to Juyeon, and Eric follows soon after. To their left, Changmin sees a pile of empty glass bottles.

“You must be Eric,” Changmin says without thinking, belatedly realizing it could make it seem like Sunwoo had been gossiping about them when a smirk tugs at the corners of Eric’s mouth.

“It’s the scar, isn’t it?” Changmin feels all his blood rush to his face, but before he can even start apologizing, Eric laughs it off. “It’s fine, I know it’s hard not to look. Not sure how else Sunwoo would’ve described me to you, honestly.”

“Listen, it’s just hard to miss,” Sunwoo shrugs, which earns him a kick to the shin from Eric. “Ow, you bitch!”

“You asked for it,” Juyeon says with a raise of his brow, humorous. “I’m Juyeon, by the way.”

“Yeah,” Changmin dumbly says, and Sunwoo laughs at him. “I’m sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t be,” Juyeon says, and Changmin hates how it is the second time that night he hears that and it makes his heart ache. “Jacob can just be very paranoid sometimes.”

“It’s not without reason,” Eric mumbles, casting his glance down to the floor. “You know how many shelters he’s seen burned to ashes before this one.”

Changmin is about to speak when a loud blaring sound starts echoing through the room. Juyeon curses faintly, quickly getting on his feet and rushing to the door Jacob and Kevin disappeared behind. He doesn’t have to knock; Jacob throws the door open just as Juyeon raises his fist, alarm written all over his face.

Changmin averts his eyes back to Sunwoo, then Eric, and he isn’t met with much better expressions. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“What’s going on?” his voice is barely a whisper when he turns to Sunwoo again. He watches as Sunwoo's face turns sour, as he brings a finger up to his lips and hushes him quietly. “Sunwoo—”

The blaring is replaced by loud static noise. And then quiet, a soft click. Juyeon rushes to an old-looking radio, turning the volume up as much as he can. Changmin can see how tense they all are – can see Jacob's stern face as he stares down at the radio as well. When the speakers on the walls start making noise again, the transmission almost seems to make time stand still.

_We expect the battle for humanity is about to begin._

_Within each uprising, a fake sense of safety will ignite in you and unseen shadows will slip from doubt towards those who protect and defend you._

_But let the thoughts slip away and remain calm._

_Stay close to F.E.A.R; only we can protect._

A soft click.

“Fuck,” Jacob cusses lowly, almost under his breath. And then louder, as he punches the wall in front of him, he repeats, “fuck!”

No one dares to say a thing. Juyeon turns the volume back down, runs a frustrated hand through his hair before moving to another adjacent room, different from the one Jacob and Kevin had been in. Eric is quick on his feet, trailing after Juyeon and closing the door behind him.

Changmin's eyes trail to Kevin then, who had been standing by the doorway but is now walking towards Jacob, fists closed tight on his sides. He whispers something to Jacob, inaudible to everyone else apart from the two of them, and Jacob's lips press into a thin line. Jacob's eyes flit to Changmin, and Changmin flinches at being caught staring.

“You,” Jacob's voice is lifeless, but Changmin didn’t expect any less. “Are you afraid to die?”

Changmin feels his throat go dry. It is a heavy question, one he hasn’t thought about in a really long while, but he knows the answer to this is an easy and simple one.

“No,” he answers with a light tilt of his head, then adds, “I don’t have anything else to lose.”

“Are you willing to fight?” Jacob adds.

Changmin thinks back on everything that led up to this, thinks of his long faded bruises, of the ache in his body and his mind, thinks of Chanhee's delicate fingers tracing the expanse of his skin. He thinks of fire, of buildings crumbling before his eyes, of orange and smoke and tears clouding his vision. He thinks of his mother – the only person he’s ever had, that hasn’t been for so long.

Changmin knows pain, knows loss, knows emptiness. The darkness stares right back at him, laughing, _taunting._

“Whatever I have to do, I will,” he replies, voice void of emotion, the rapid beating of his heart now replaced by quiet emptiness.

Jacob stares at him for a moment longer, then nods. He looks at Sunwoo then, shoving his hands in his pocket. “He stays in your room. Make sure he doesn’t fuck up.”

Sunwoo nods, getting on his feet and outstretching a hand for Changmin to take. He doesn’t, and Sunwoo doesn’t take it as offense, instead walking towards a different door and opening it up for them. Changmin can hear Kevin and Jacob chat in hurried whispers, about things he can’t even begin to understand.

The door closes behind him with a soft click, drowning them in pitch darkness until Sunwoo shuffles across the room to light an old oil lamp. It barely illuminates anything, but it is enough to make the unsettling feeling he feels running down his spine to go away. Sunwoo doesn’t have much – a mattress on the floor, a box of clothes, a small bedside table supporting the lamp.

“I told you it’s not much,” Sunwoo says as he flops down on the mattress, groaning as he stretches out his limbs, almost like a cat. “And it’s not ideal by any means, but it’s definitely better than nothing.”

It reminds him of Chanhee's old place, as well as his own; empty for the most part, lacking any trace of personality and much like Changmin feels on the inside. Sunwoo pats the space next to him on the mattress, and it takes Changmin a few seconds to unglue his shoes from his spot on the floor and walk forward. He sits down, staring straight ahead instead of looking at Sunwoo, but the other doesn’t seem to mind.

“I know how you’re feeling,” Sunwoo says after a while, shifting in the mattress, and it is only then that Changmin looks at him. He is on his side now, looking up at him. “We’ll make things right; this is a promise. We’ll get him back.”

Changmin hums, lying down next to him.

“I’m not sure I feel anything,” his voice is quiet, almost getting lost in the air around them. He pauses, pondering his words, his thoughts, and Sunwoo hums for him to keep going. “I feel—empty. Mostly angry.”

“Angry is good,” Sunwoo says, and when Changmin turns his head to look at him again, Sunwoo nods. “Anger motivates you to keep going and strive for better. We’re all angry in similar ways, you know. That’s why we’re here, in this basement.”

“Are you not afraid?” Changmin asks, thinking back to what Sunwoo had told him earlier. _I’m not like you._

“Of?” Sunwoo asks back instead. Changmin doesn’t know how to answer – he doesn’t really know what he is asking, so he keeps quiet. “Death? Poverty? Violence? Not quite. I’m never out there, doing the things they do; I mostly help from down here, just like Kevin. Though I know Kevin has killed someone before, whereas I haven’t.”

“Oh.”

“Scared of losing them?” Sunwoo continues, shifting just a little bit closer. Changmin doesn’t move away. “Perhaps. I don’t know where I’d be today if it wasn’t for them, for Jacob letting me stay.”

“Do you think he will let me stay, too?” Changmin can’t tear his eyes away from Sunwoo's.

The corners of Sunwoo's mouth tugs up a little, but not enough to make him smile.

“He already has,” his voice is now soothing, reassuring, his eyes kind. Sunwoo pushes himself up into a sitting position, still looking at him, now staring him down, and suddenly Changmin feels like he can’t breathe again. His eyes flit down to Sunwoo's lips when he runs his tongue over them, coating them with a layer of saliva. And when he says, “can I kiss you?” oh so very quietly, it almost feels like the world has stopped spinning.

Changmin nods.

When Sunwoo bends down to kiss him, it is nothing like kissing Chanhee. Sunwoo is warm all over, body burning up like a furnace, his hands rough where they cup his face to pull him closer. He isn’t pliant like Chanhee was, is needier than either of them combined, licks across his lower lip with so much urgency Changmin can’t help but gasp.

And when he licks into his mouth, Changmin feels dizzy. His tongue is intoxicating against his, as he licks him up and kisses him deeper, as Changmin moans into the kiss and Sunwoo, too, moans into his mouth. Changmin's hands curl around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the hairs on his nape, tugging lightly, pulling him closer, and only then is Sunwoo willing to comply.

He presses Sunwoo's body flush against his, until Sunwoo is crushing him with his weight and he doesn’t have room to breathe. Sunwoo kisses him until his lips bruise and his mind goes numb, until his jaw hurts and his lungs threaten to give up on him.

He falls asleep shortly after, with Sunwoo pressed next to him, with his heart racing and a pleasant buzz under his skin.

🔥

On most days, Changmin feels like he is watching life bloom before his very eyes.

It is a weird thought to have, he thinks, considering the conditions they are all living under. Poverty still surrounds them in every waking moment, still follows them to bed once night falls; everything is still pretty much the same, only that this time, it isn’t.

On most days, he feels like an impostor. He can’t really help it, no matter how much Eric or Sunwoo reassure him that he is where he is supposed to be, that they are doing things for a reason, and a good one at that. Unity is not what Changmin grew familiar with; he has found himself alone for most of his life, for longer than he can remember, the memories of a family, a warm hand holding his all but fading in the back of his brain now.

He sits back and watches their dynamics through the day from a back corner of the main area, not finding himself useful for anything and not wanting to be a bother to anyone. He helps when help is needed, cleans after himself, stays quiet for the most part. It is interesting, he thinks, to watch little bits of their personalities unravel once the tension of his arrival has lifted.

Jacob is still mostly cold towards him, though Changmin could never blame him for it. He, too, is not very fond of changes, and he knows that adding him to the equation of their already balanced scheme of living isn’t something easy to deal with or to adapt to. Changmin is grateful, however, to the effort he knows Jacob is putting into being okay with his presence.

Every night, before they retreat into their rooms, Changmin quietly thanks Kevin for it. Kevin offers him a small smile without failing, a light pat on the shoulder and a gentle reminder that he is fine.

Changmin doesn’t think he is anywhere near fine.

He feels angry, empty for the most part still, even as Sunwoo kisses him deeply or fucks him into the mattress, as he brings him to his highest bliss and then back down, as he wraps his arms around his waist and buries his face into Changmin's nape as they go to sleep. Changmin understands how touch-starved Sunwoo is, knows he is just as well, and while it still feels weird and unfamiliar, it is never unwelcomed.

Sunwoo doesn’t pressure him into being something he knows Changmin could never be, doesn’t pressure him into talking when he doesn’t feel like it, leaves him be when he feels the dullest on more difficult days. He is equal parts stubborn and understanding, standing his ground when the situation calls for it but also knowing when to back down. Changmin is growing to appreciate him for that.

For how crowded and chaotic things can seem at night sometimes, the shelter feels oddly empty during the day. Changmin learns their routines rather quickly – at sunrise, Jacob, Juyeon and Kevin leave for their day jobs, which is what keeps them together and going, it seems. Eric leaves a little after noon and comes back right after the sun sets, hauling so many glass bottles his arms can barely keep them together, backpack full to the brim.

The most fascinating part of it all is watching him, along with Sunwoo, turn those bottles into explosives ready to be set off.

With Juyeon, Changmin almost feels like Sunwoo warned him about the wrong person. Every night, he comes back with a small pile of books in his bag, which adds to a bigger pile that runs along one of the walls of the main room. Every night, Juyeon sits by himself, quiet, opens a new book and immerses himself into it until Eric crawls over and drapes himself across his lap, sleepily calling him to bed.

It is endearing to watch the two of them, to watch the way Juyeon's eyes soften as he puts whichever book he is reading down, as he threads his fingers through Eric’s hair and bends down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, his cheek, a chaste kiss to his lips. They retreat to their room without a word, and Changmin always feels his chest heavier than it should be.

“He saved me, you know,” Eric tells him one late night when Juyeon hasn’t come back yet, completely unprompted. He isn’t looking at Changmin, and instead has his eyes glued on the bottles his hands make quick work on, passing them off to Sunwoo as they fill them with alcohol and seal them off. Changmin looks taken aback but doesn’t inquire; Eric follows up soon after, pointing at his eye. “Juyeon and I met the day I got this nasty little scar of mine.”

Sunwoo is oddly quiet, his eyes never leaving the bottles. Eric looks up at him, and there is a ghost of a smile and something else on his lips.

“I’m not sure if they were cops or not, but these people were going to kill me,” Changmin can hear the pain in his voice, can hear the telltale signs that this is not a topic he touches on often. He wonders if he has ever had to retell this to anyone other than Sunwoo. “Sometimes I can still feel the ghost pain of piercing blades where I was stabbed on my ribs, my back, my arms, and it keeps me up at night. Sometimes I worry he worries about me too much.”

“None of those stabbings compare to the feeling of the sharpest blade slicing down my face,” Eric adds, and Changmin notices his hands have stopped working. There is a slight tremble to his fingers, almost unnoticeable if you weren’t looking so closely. “I was shit at defending myself, and when I could only see red and nothing else, I knew it was over. Only that it wasn’t, because Juyeon came out of seemingly nowhere and immediately went for their throats; I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear their bodies falling on the ground.”

“I was so sure I was going to die,” his voice drops even further. “It was so dark and so late out, I shouldn’t have been trying to steal shit but I was _so hungry._ I knew they had their eyes out on me, and that I was being foolish and naïve, but I just wanted to survive. As I coughed up blood, lying on that pavement, I wondered if wanting to live was worth being stabbed to death.”

Changmin can feel his heart in his throat, knowing that feeling too well.

“He was trying to talk to me,” Eric laughs a little, like the painful memory has suddenly become somehow funny, “and I couldn’t understand shit. He was trying to ask me something and all I could do was groan in pain and try to stop the bleeding on the deepest wounds. He ripped a piece of his shirt off and pressed it to my eye, and I remember wanting to curse him out so bad, but I didn’t.”

“Jacob hated to see me with him. He had told Juyeon the same thing he told Sunwoo – _do not bring in strays, don’t risk putting us in jeopardy._ Then in comes Juyeon, with a boy bleeding to death, quite literally, staining the floors with blood. I was completely passed out by then, so I didn’t hear the worst of it, but I did hear some as I started coming back to my senses. I don’t blame Jacob for reacting the way he did at all.”

Similarly, Changmin doesn’t, either.

“It took me long to recover, and I was out cold for most of the days. I think I worried Juyeon the most, then. Whenever I was awake, I could see anxiety all over his face even if he tried to hide it,” Eric smiles, looking so fond, and Changmin feels like he could cry. Sunwoo places a hand on his thigh, warm and grounding. “I still don’t know why he saved me, but I’m glad he did. Despite everything else being shit, I’m glad I’m here with them—with you guys.”

“When I was okay and back on my feet, he trained me to be as good with blades as he is. He’s still better than me, but I’m not so bad myself,” he laughs again. “Things have never been as bad as they were the day we met since then, so I think things are okay.”

The conversation is dropped when the door opens and Juyeon slips in with yet another bag full of books and bags under his eyes. That night, Changmin sees Juyeon kiss Eric’s scar for the first time.

Kevin tells him about the rebels at ass hour of the night, when everyone else has gone to bed and they are left to listen to the rain falling outside. Not about them, but the _others_ – the ones the pamphlets are meant for, the ones they have never met, who hide in the shadows just like them.

He doesn’t know where they hide, Changmin is told, seeing as Jacob refuses to tell him no matter how many times or how he asks; Kevin doesn’t know if it is for security reasons or because he doesn’t know either, but whichever the case, it almost feels like a capital secret.

Jacob comes out of their room then, sits down next to Kevin and rests his head on Kevin’s shoulder, his hand coming to clasp around Kevin’s on top on Kevin’s thigh, fingers lacing together as his eyes flutter shut. Jacob falls asleep like that – wordlessly and quickly, looking the most at ease Changmin has ever seen him be. There is a light flush coloring Kevin’s cheeks, like he is flustered by Jacob's antics, and Changmin can’t help but feel like he is intruding on something he isn’t supposed to see.

But Kevin keeps going, voice dropping to a lower register so as to not disturb the boy sleeping on his shoulder. He tells Changmin about their attempts to keep the lower classes safe while putting themselves at risk, and while they can’t guarantee everyone will be out of harm’s way, their focus is always to protect as many people as they can.

Kevin apologizes for being unable to do it for Changmin when he needed them; they were not made aware there were people still living where his old shelter had been. Juyeon had been the one to catch sight of a girl running away from the flames, and the one who reached Kevin the fastest to alert him of it.

Sunwoo had told him they didn’t know, and Changmin chose to believe him. To have it be confirmed by Kevin himself sets something off in him – like a livewire, setting off sparks and ready to catch on fire.

“I know what it feels like,” Kevin adds, looking him right in the eyes. “Losing everything, having to adapt, dealing with us. It’s not an easy process, but if you’re willing to help us, then I think you’ll be able to find a place of your own in here.”

Changmin swallows dryly, his eyes momentarily flitting to Jacob's face and then back to Kevin’s. “I don’t think Jacob would like that,” his voice is almost below a whisper, hoping Jacob isn’t just pretending to be asleep. “He doesn’t like me that much.”

A small smile spreads on Kevin’s lips, his fingers tightening around Jacob's. “I know he can be harsh sometimes, but he doesn’t hate you.” He pauses, laughing lightly when Changmin's brows draw into a furrow. “He wouldn’t let you see him like this if he did. He never lets his guard down if he doesn’t fully know he’s safe.”

It feels like a burden is lifted off his shoulders, and it is only then that Changmin excuses himself and goes into Sunwoo's room to catch some sleep. It is the first night he sleeps feeling a little lighter, sleeps a little easier, finds comfort in Sunwoo's heavy but steady breathing.

They are two nights away from the two weeks deadline, and it is the only night Changmin can pull his thoughts away from absolute hatred and despair.

The night of, Changmin feels like all his nerve-endings are alight as thunder roars through the sky. They slip into the night like moving shadows, quiet and unsuspecting, away from the human eye. Right after crossing the bridge, over the sound of running water, Jacob splits them into teams of two, set to meet up at their final destination – the manor.

Or, as Sunwoo has come to call it, Chanhee's prison.

It is hard to breathe through the layers of cloth wrapped around his head and over his face, hard to think past the speed with which his heart beats and the sound their shoes make on wet pavement. The weight of the fuel-filled bottles is nothing compared to the weight Changmin carries on his shoulders—the weight of having no room for failure.

He allows Sunwoo to take the lead, to guide him to Chanhee once again, and the quietness of the city being washed by the rain feels almost unsettling. Changmin has seen the city lights plenty of times now to know this is not common; Juyeon had told him things had shifted, started changing after that first radio transmission, but Changmin hadn’t known what he meant until now.

Changmin recognizes the paths they take, the streets and alleyways they slink in and out of, had grown used to the neon lights and bright lamps and loud honking of cars, to the open windows he could hear laughter drip from. Now, only the bright streetlamps are left, any signs of nocturnal life tucked away in the shadows along with them, eerily so. Sunwoo doesn’t have to tell him to be quiet; he knows their light footfalls are loud enough in the empty streets.

Lightning crackles bright in the sky and almost scares the living shit out of him. Sunwoo holds out to him, holds him close, and Changmin can feel embarrassment burn hot on the back of his neck. If anyone were to ask him, Changmin would definitely say he is not afraid of storms – he has been through enough of them to know there is nothing to fear about a bad weather.

He does, however, hate anything that reminds him of how alone he is.

How alone he used to be.

Storms were often a reminder of the day he found himself alone for the first time, a mocking force that loomed over his head and left him with shivering through the night. Today, as the storm subsides and they start making their way uphill, Changmin thinks it is time to let the rain mean something else to him. If he manages to get Chanhee back, then maybe he will.

Changmin feels a shiver run down his spine as the manor comes into view. It feels like an eternity has passed since they were last here, but at the same time it feels like it hasn’t even been a day. Sunwoo walks them to the corner with the tree, where they know to trespass; with a faint whistle, they wait.

The others come out of the shadows one by one, careful not to make noise or draw attention. Sunwoo explains how to get in, tells them to be careful not to hurt themselves with the fall, even though Changmin doesn’t think they need to be told as much. It is part of Sunwoo’s caring nature, Changmin has learned from observation for the time they have been together so far.

Jacob is the one who climbs in first, taking the lead as he usually does, naturally so. Kevin follows right after, then Juyeon and Sunwoo, Eric and Changmin going in last. There isn’t much time to think; they know they only have a few minutes to attack and get Chanhee out of there before they are locked in and the authorities are alerted about it.

Changmin can feel his heart beating in his throat. He reaches for one of the bottles strapped to his back and for the lighter in his pocket, the metal heavy in his hand as they keep on moving forward. Eric falls in step with him, unceasingly playing with the lid of his own lighter. A few steps ahead of them, Changmin can see Juyeon double check the blades strapped to his thigh.

“Are you nervous?” Eric asks, and there is an edge to his voice Changmin is sure he hasn’t heard before. Changmin looks to his side, at Eric, and through the slit on the fabric where only his eyes can be seen, Changmin can see a fierce glint.

Changmin shakes his head.

“No,” he answers, voice quiet, and he finds it isn’t a lie. “I’m just worried the fire won’t catch on the wet walls.”

Eric laughs, or scoffs – Changmin isn’t sure which. He bumps into Changmin’s shoulder, motions with his head for them to keep going, walk faster, and so Changmin does. Eric falls into step with Juyeon and Changmin finds himself next to Sunwoo once again, hands going clammy the tighter he holds onto the glass bottle.

They stop meters away from the door; even through the closed windows, Changmin can hear loud music playing once again. Jacob looks back at them, and even though he has most of his face concealed, Changmin can still see the fierceness in his eyes.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Jacob asks, and Changmin knows the question is directed at him.

Silently, Changmin nods.

Without a word, he uncaps the bottle and pulls on the cloth from the tip that isn’t soaked in fuel. When he lights up the fire in his lighter, he can feel his pupils dance along with the flame, fascinated. He licks his lips, takes a deep breath, and brings the fire to the cloth.

Changmin knows they only have a few seconds, and without sparing it a second thought, he throws the bottle directly at the back door. He feels entranced by the way the glass hits the door and shatters, the noise the fire makes once in contact with the fuel, how far and wide the flames spread despite having rained.

Jacob shoulders the door down and they start filing into the manor, bottles and lighters in hand ready to be set off. Changmin thinks he can hear faint screaming in the background as Eric sets another Molotov cocktail off, now on the inside of the house, the wooden cabinets in the kitchen immediately catching on fire.

Things happen in a blur of orange and smoke, the screaming being drowned out by Jacob’s commands to keep going in until they find Chanhee. Changmin loses track of how many cocktails he sets off, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he watches with fascination in his eyes as the world burns to ashes around him. Burning his way through yet another door, Changmin can almost feel the world screeching to a halt.

He finds Chanhee curled up in the corner of a study room, his hands covering his ears and eyes tightly shut as he shakes. Changmin slows down, putting away the bottle he has in his hand as he steps further into the room. He approaches Chanhee with careful steps and a stretched-out hand, unsure if the other can hear him through the screaming and explosions outside.

Changmin crouches down once he is directly in front of him, trying to get his attention, and it is only then that he hears Chanhee muttering pleas like a prayer.

“Chanhee,” he says, voice rough from inhaling smoke. He reaches to touch him but Chanhee flinches away, voice raising in volume as he tries to turn away from Changmin. Changmin reaches for the cloth concealing his face instead, pulling it off just enough to reveal the rest of his features. “Hey, it’s just me.”

Chanhee’s head snaps up, realization washing over him and tears brimming in his eyes. He throws his arms over Changmin’s shoulders and around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug and almost tackling him to the ground. Changmin hates how badly Chanhee is shaking, how desperate he seems to be seeing a familiar face. He reaches for Chanhee’s arms, slowly peeling Chanhee away from him.

“Come on,” Changmin whispers, pulling Chanhee to his feet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Chanhee, although barefoot, doesn’t falter in his step when Changmin starts running. They clasp their hands together, tight enough for his knuckles to hurt, but Changmin doesn’t think of letting go for even a second. There is even more smoke now, the orange glow of the burning fire starting to hurt his eyes as he makes his way back to the back door.

Changmin locks eyes with Sunwoo for a split second as they run past the dining room – a brief nod before Sunwoo's eyes flit to Chanhee right on Changmin's tail, and then Sunwoo screams, _“we got him!”_ loud enough for the others to hear. Another crack and more flames alight, and the figures of more masked up people come into view.

Through the blur of things, Changmin can see the blade on Eric’s hand, dripping blood on white porcelain tiles. In the kitchen, Changmin feels like he should be shocked to see Juyeon grabbing a kitchen knife by the blade as his dominant hand slashes across the throat of the man attempting to attack him – and yet, it hardly moves him.

Chanhee's hold on his hand tightens and Changmin knows their reactions aren’t quite the same, but he doesn’t have enough time to look back and check on him.

They don’t have time at all.

Kevin is the first one to rush through the flames and burst through the door, Sunwoo on his tail and then Juyeon. Eric follows them not a second later, and Changmin holds his breath to do the same. He can hear Chanhee coughing behind him, his hand shaking in his hold, yet his pace never slowing down.

Changmin can feel his clothes charr as they make their way outside, though he pays it no mind. Jacob only comes out once he knows everyone made it out safe, and Changmin isn’t at all surprised to see him pick up speed and take the lead once again as they make their way to the gate.

Jacob lights another bottle and aims it right at the gate’s locking mechanism, the electronics sending sparks flying as it explodes just a couple feet away from them. Kevin forces the gate open and they slink back into the streets, into the shadows of the night where no eyes can see them.

It is only then that Changmin looks back – at the manor that is now on fire, at Chanhee's figure huffing as he keeps up with their pace, at everything Changmin has just risked just to get Chanhee back.

What _they_ just risked to get Chanhee back.

They run until their lungs burn and their feet threaten to bleed, joints hurting with every hard impact of feet against the ground. Changmin knows that adrenaline is what keeps them going, what pushes them downhill and across the bridge, through dark and quiet alleyways until they find themselves on familiar grounds. Only then do they slow down, barely so at that, knowing full well they need to be back to safety as quickly as possible.

It is when they get to the steps of their basement shelter that Changmin feels a hard tug on his hand, and he turns around barely quick enough to see Chanhee collapse to the ground. Changmin unwraps the cloth from around his face, crouching down in front of Chanhee as the others file down the stairs. Sunwoo is the only one who lingers – all the way down on the last step, but still watching them with attentive eyes.

“Chanhee,” Changmin softly calls out, squeezing his hand lightly, but Chanhee doesn’t look up at him. Changmin swallows thickly and tries again. “We’re almost there, I promise.”

Chanhee shakes his head, crushing the bones of Changmin's hand; Changmin takes a deep breath and finally allows to take in the sight of the boy before him for the first time that night.

Much like the first night they met at the manor, Chanhee is clad in a dress that should be too small to fit him, glittery gold and sparking under the faint moonlight. His roots don’t seem to have grown an inch, and Changmin wonders if the people at the manor were providing him with money or resources to keep his hair bubblegum pink all the while he was there.

Physically, Changmin doesn’t see much change from a first glance. But, if he looks at him for longer than two seconds, he can see the bags under Chanhee's eyes, the fading bruises on his arms, the shaking of his limbs. And if things weren’t bad enough, Changmin then sees his feet bleeding – from hard impact on the ground, for running barefoot for too long.

“I can’t,” Chanhee whispers, squeezing his hand harder. He looks up at Changmin, his eyes glistening with tears Changmin knows he doesn’t want to shed. “I _can’t.”_

Changmin, still kneeling, turns his back to him.

“Come,” he says, tugging on Chanhee's hand. “Hop on.”

Chanhee is hesitant to let go of his hand, but it doesn’t take long until Changmin feels his body press against his back. He takes a deep breath and pushes himself on his feet, knees wobbling with the struggle of keeping his own weakening body upright as well as Chanhee's on his back. Sunwoo walks up a couple steps, reaching out for them, but Changmin shakes his head to tell him it’s okay.

He is careful on his way down, keeping his body close to the wall just in case he needs the support. Sunwoo never takes his eyes off them, waits until Changmin gets to the bottom of the stairs before he starts walking again. The corridor seems to be darker tonight, any semblance of light nowhere to be seen, the temperature dropping as it starts to rain once again.

The shelter feels much more welcoming now that Changmin feels familiarized with his surroundings and the people who inhabit it. He walks right past their improvised first-aid station, where the others tend to their wounds, and goes straight to the bathroom, sitting Chanhee down on the closed toilet lid.

“I’ll leave you to shower on your own,” he informs even if he doesn’t feel he needs to; he doesn’t think Chanhee expected him to stick around. Chanhee nods, gaze cast down to his still bleeding feet. “I’ll see if Sunwoo has a spare change of clothes for you. I’ll be right by the door, so call me if you need anything, okay?”

Chanhee nods again, still unable to say much of anything. Changmin is just about to walk through the door when he hears Chanhee's faint voice again.

“Hey,” Chanhee softly calls for him, and Changmin turns around to look at him again. He finds Chanhee with his gaze cast up at his face now, the faintest smile hidden on the corner of his lips. “Thanks.”

Changmin smiles at him, his heart clenching so hard it almost feels like he is suffocating.

“It’s no trouble at all,” it is only a half-lie and he knows it, but Chanhee doesn’t need to know. He turns around and leaves, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

Changmin heaves his biggest sigh of the night, feeling like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders and replaced by another one equally as big. He can still feel adrenaline coursing through his veins, can still see orange behind his lids if he closes his eyes for long enough, can still hear the sound of the explosions if things get too quiet. It feels both thrilling and terrifying.

Mostly thrilling.

His eyes glance around the room – at Eric tending to the cut on Juyeon's hand, at Jacob wrapping gauze around Kevin’s arm as Kevin applies ointment on his face—at Sunwoo, who unloads stacks of money hidden in his clothes on top of the table the radio is perched on. Changmin wonders when exactly he found the time to go for the manor’s safe to steal all of that.

He walks into Sunwoo's room – that he supposes is now his, too, and grabs one of Sunwoo's few spare change of clothes, quietly making his way back to the bathroom door and sitting himself down, waiting for Chanhee to be ready.

Chanhee's voice sounds faintly from the other side of the wooden door not long after, asking if he is still there and if he got fresh clothes for him. Changmin knocks on the door once before opening it just enough to slip the clothes in, closing it again to give Chanhee space and time to get himself dressed again. When the door opens for good, it almost seems like Chanhee is being swallowed by Sunwoo's clothes.

“Thanks again,” Chanhee says, nervously running his palms down the too-large shirt, as if trying to smoothen it.

Changmin takes him by the hand and joins the others, sitting down where Sunwoo installs himself for the time being. Changmin can see the nervous glances Sunwoo casts at Chanhee, can see the way his head keeps turning the longer Chanhee stays silent, and while Changmin would love to say something to fill in the silence, he finds himself unable to say anything at all.

Chanhee shifts closer to him, as if seeking body heat or a way to ground himself, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Thank you, all of you,” Chanhee's voice is still quiet when he speaks, though it seems much louder this time. All eyes turn to him, and Changmin can see him visibly swallow around the audible knot in his throat. “For risking your lives to save me tonight. I didn’t—I didn’t think it would be like that. I didn’t take them seriously at all, to be honest.”

“We would never joke about your safety,” Sunwoo's voice is dry, harsh even. “How could you think we wouldn’t be serious about taking you out of there?”

“I just—” Chanhee turns to look at Sunwoo past Changmin, and Changmin can see the pain in his eyes. “I didn’t think I’m worth it. I’m sorry you got hurt because of me tonight.”

Before any of them can reply, the loud static of the radio starts sounding through the room again. Chanhee startles next to him, eyes wide as they flit to the old thing on the desk. They find Juyeon cursing under his breath once again as he rushes to turn up the volume, much like he had done the first time Changmin had witnessed this happen.

This time, Changmin holds his breath.

_The rebels claim their brave new world is upon us._

_Do not be fooled by the chicanery with which they lay their claim; it is false, and their uprising will not succeed._

_You will place your trust in F.E.A.R._

_You must._

This time, there is no more cussing, no more rushing; only silence hanging thick over their heads, an impending sense of doom crawling in the shadows and following their every move. Chanhee looks at him with doe eyes, a million and one questions marring his features, questions Changmin doesn’t think he could answer so easily or quickly.

“They’re watching us,” is the only thing Juyeon says as he brings the volume back down, eyes hard as he looks at Jacob.

Jacob presses his lips into a thin line, glances at all of them before heaving a sigh. He gets on his feet despite Kevin telling him not to, pulling his charred shirt over his head and frustratedly tossing it to the ground.

“All of you, retreat to your rooms,” it is a command and not a request, and they reluctantly get on their feet to follow his order. Kevin gives Jacob a hard look, but Jacob is unrelenting. “Except for Juyeon. You stay.”

Changmin can see Eric pout but not protest, quietly getting a few pieces of gauze and going into his and Juyeon's room. Kevin tries to protest but Jacob shuts him down, and that is the first time Changmin sees Kevin look even remotely angry at Jacob over something.

Sunwoo pushes them forward until the three of them are in his room, the door closing softly behind them. They all sit there in silence, trying to listen to what is being said outside but only being able to listen to the light rainfall that precedes the storm that happens outside soon after.

Chanhee, seemingly exhausted, falls asleep curled up against the wall without a word. Changmin curls up next to him not long after, feeling his heart being squeezed to the size of a raisin as he watches how small and vulnerable Chanhee seems to be. He feels like he could cry, like all his repressed emotions are breaking like a dam as he wraps his arms around Chanhee's middle and pulls him close.

He is still gross, so gross, with ashes clinging to his skin, his hair and his clothes, but he can’t bring himself to let go of Chanhee. And Sunwoo, who presses himself against his back and presses his lips to the base of his neck, doesn’t seem to mind either, just like Changmin doesn’t mind it about him.

But it’s alright, he thinks. They can worry about that in the morning.

For now, Changmin chooses to focus on how warm yet hopeless he feels, with the impending feeling that a war is coming ticking like a time bomb at the very back of his brain, haunting his every waking moment.

🔥

These days, Changmin often wonders how things have changed so drastically and so quickly. He wonders if any of this would have happened had he not gone to the pub that one day – wonders if his shelter would have still been burned to the ground, if him being in a place he wasn’t supposed to be all these weeks ago caused a glitch in the matrix, if it had thrown the world off its axis.

He wonders if he would still have met Chanhee, somehow, had he not gone to the pub that night.

These days, Changmin has taken to blame himself for a lot of things.

After getting Chanhee back, the dynamics of things shift in a way that makes Changmin lose his footing. It’s not all bad, not really, but every day feels more hectic than they should, with half of them struggling to balance their double lives between their daytime jobs and the rebels at night.

Jacob seems more on edge than ever, talking about _the others_ more openly and frequently; Changmin still doesn’t know who they are, but the last radio transmission set something off in Jacob that doesn’t seem to go down. Changmin wonders if it is fear – fear of losing what he has worked so hard to maintain until now, fear of losing them.

Changmin has learned Jacob is very afraid of losing Kevin, at the very least.

Getting Chanhee back also meant the shattering of an illusion Changmin had seemed to be living under, where things would suddenly be alright just because the pink-haired boy of his dreams is within reach. Reality, however, is much tougher than that.

Changmin hadn’t noticed it at first, how Chanhee no longer has that intoxicating spark in his eyes. It didn’t take long for the signs to become clear to his ever-observing eyes – the way the corners of Chanhee’s lips never tug into a smile, the way his nose doesn’t crinkle when he laughs, or the way Chanhee never really seems to laugh anymore.

Even more so than that, it is the way Chanhee shies away from his touches, stops a hand that is halfway up to caress his cheek, sleeps on the hard, cold floor so he isn’t sharing a mattress with him and Sunwoo.

Like a star whose light has gone out, Changmin feels his heart clench as he watches Chanhee become less of himself with each passing day.

Changmin decides, not long after, that he hates the world and everything they have been forced to become. He knows he, too, isn’t the same person he used to be before all this happened – the fearless, unstoppable force that used to keep him going has been pushed so far down his guts he doesn’t even know how to get it back. For someone who didn’t know fear, Changmin fears one too many things now.

Or maybe he has just learned to be selfish. Changmin wants to be selfish.

He wants to be selfish in the way he doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to let go of them—of the fleeting sense of community he has found in this basement. They are all so different and yet still the same; striving for the same goal, fighting the same fight, feeling the same hatred as he does. And he doesn’t want to let go.

He won’t let go, even if he has to die for it.

Hatred is what stirs in his stomach as he watches the world change around him. For someone who has seen it one too many times in such a short period of time, Changmin isn’t a big fan of changes.

The night Chanhee asks Jacob for help to dye his hair black, Changmin knows there is no going back from this.

Jacob watches Chanhee with wide eyes – surprised, taken aback, unsure if he really heard it right. Changmin understands; they don’t approach him unless extremely necessary, seeing as he doesn’t like being bothered for futile reasons when his brain is working nonstop on how to get everything going.

And maybe it is Chanhee's lack of hesitance that softens Jacob's edges even if just for a second. Maybe it is his lack of fear that makes Jacob's lips tug into the faintest smile and his eyes soften, too, that makes Jacob leave Juyeon in charge of things as he slips into the night.

Everyone looks as shocked as Changmin feels, but no one dares to say a thing about it.

Jacob comes back hours later, it feels like, with a box of hair dye tucked in his jacket and rainwater drenching his hair, making it stick to his forehead. Kevin is quick on his feet, grabbing him a towel to pat him dry, and none of Jacob's hostility can be seen as Kevin towels him dry as best as he can.

It is a terribly domestic scene for a world that barely feels like home.

Juyeon slips to his side, slides down to the floor to sit next to him and doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. Changmin can’t take his eyes off Chanhee – of Jacob's fingers working the dye on his strands, his scalp, concealing the lasts of bright colors Chanhee still had in him.

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” Juyeon asks so quietly Changmin could’ve thought he was making it up in his head. He averts his eyes from Chanhee to Juyeon, but he doesn’t find Juyeon looking at him. “Do you still want to do this?”

It is a vague and general question, but he knows what the question is about. They have repeatedly told him that he can quit if he doesn’t think he is strong enough for it; admittedly, Changmin has considered the option one too many times. He doesn’t think of himself as weak, but sometimes feeling like a maniac out of hatred doesn’t sound as useful as he could be.

Still, Changmin nods, even if Juyeon can’t see.

“Now more than ever,” he says, eyes darting back to Chanhee and Jacob, to Kevin, who sings a song Changmin doesn’t know, from where he sits on the floor near them. Juyeon makes a noise in the back of his throat that is akin to confusion, so Changmin adds, feeling his blood boil in his veins, “I won’t sit here and watch him be disgraced like that. I can’t.”

Juyeon hums, laughs a little, and Changmin frowns at him.

“Liking someone makes you do some crazy shit,” when Changmin looks at him again, there is a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips, his eyes now looking at where Eric sits with Sunwoo, working on new cocktails. “I could tear the world apart if it meant I could keep him safe. Isn’t that how you feel?”

Changmin pauses, but it isn’t to consider. He already knows the answer.

“Yeah,” he says with a breath, his fingers curling into tight fists. “I would.”

Sunwoo looks back at them then, concern heavy on his brows where they draw low on his forehead. He says something to Eric that they can’t hear and pushes himself on his feet, walking towards him with long strides. Once he is standing right in front of Changmin, Sunwoo offers a hand for him to take.

“Come,” he says and nothing else, wiggling his fingers until Changmin presses his palm into his.

Without another word, Sunwoo walks him to their room, softly closing the door behind him. Changmin stares at him with doe eyes, feeling his heartrate pick up in his ribcage as Sunwoo walks around and stops in front of him. He lets go of Changmin's hand, and before Changmin can open his mouth to say anything, Sunwoo cups his cheeks and pulls him into a kiss.

It feels like his reeling mind is brought to a screeching halt when Sunwoo's warm lips press against his. It is a quiet reassurance that he is okay, somehow, even if everything else is being burnt to shit. Sunwoo licks across the seam of his lips and Changmin easily parts for him, sighing when his tongue glides against his, licking every corner of his mouth.

Changmin finds purchase on Sunwoo's hips, his knees going weak the deeper Sunwoo kisses him, like he is kissing all his worries away. Kissing Sunwoo is nothing like he remembers kissing Chanhee; there is no edge of desperation, no urgency in the way Sunwoo licks into his mouth and holds him close, fingers gentle where they press against his skin. It isn’t nearly as electrifying but it still keeps Changmin on edge, wanting more but not desperate enough to ask for it.

With Sunwoo, he doesn’t have to ask for anything.

Sunwoo is eager in a controlled way to give him everything he wants; Changmin can feel it in the way Sunwoo pushes him back until his ankles bump against the mattress, the way he leans further into him until they are forced to break the kiss in order for Changmin to fall down on the cushioned surface. Changmin can see it in the way Sunwoo doesn’t even hesitate to pull his shirt over his head – and he is just as helpless, mirroring his movements without giving it much thought.

He feels almost reverent when Sunwoo presses a gentle hand on his chest, pushing him down until his back rests against the mattress. Changmin can feel the soft heaving of his chest as he stares up at Sunwoo, at the way his bangs frame his face so pretty, at the way the low light in the room casts shadows on his features in all the right ways. And when Sunwoo bends down to press his lips against his jaw, kissing him softly, Changmin feels his heart skip a beat.

Sunwoo trails his kisses from his jaw to his neck, nibbling on the skin on his wake, giving him gentle love bites that Changmin knows won’t mark. Changmin’s head lolls to the side, giving Sunwoo more work area, a soft sigh escaping his lips when Sunwoo licks along his collarbone. Sunwoo's hands are gentle when he runs them up and down his sides and shifts him on the mattress, pulling him close.

Changmin's hands find their way into Sunwoo's hair when Sunwoo kisses down his chest, his body squirming when Sunwoo closes his lips around a nipple and swirls his tongue around the bud. The tiny moan he lets out when Sunwoo scrapes his teeth over it feels almost embarrassing, but then he does it again and again and all Changmin can care to do is try not to be so loud when his moans keep building up in his chest.

It’s overwhelming, the feeling of Sunwoo's spit coating his chest as he moves on to the other nipple and does the same, thumb coming up to play with the now sensitive nipple. Changmin's back arches off the mattress, his leg hooking around Sunwoo's waist to bring him closer, making their crotches rub together through the rough material of their pants. Sunwoo breathes out a moan of his own, trailing his lips from his nipple to his sternum and then kissing his way down his chest.

Sunwoo's lips are pillowy soft where he kisses his stomach, his tongue hot when he dips it into his navel and makes him giggle, the sound laced around a moan that dies in his throat when Sunwoo starts mouthing at the skin right above the waistband of his pants. Sunwoo is quick to work the button and zipper open, his fingers hooking into his clothes and dragging both his pants and underwear down in one go.

Changmin lifts his hips to help make the removal of his clothes easier, crashing back down with a huff as Sunwoo pulls them down his thighs ever so slowly, his lips kissing every patch of newly exposed skin. He spreads his legs wider to better accommodate Sunwoo and Sunwoo slots himself between them like he has been doing this all this life – kissing Changmin's inner thighs, making his muscles shake, basking in every little noise that comes out of Changmin's mouth.

Sunwoo kisses his way back up, licks over his hipbones until Changmin starts tugging on his hair, pulling him off and up. Sunwoo laughs, his breath ghosting hot against him as he kisses over his stomach once again, up his chest until their lips slot in a heated kiss. Sunwoo holds Changmin by the hips and digs his thumbs into his skin until Changmin whines into his mouth, spreading his legs wider for him.

It feels almost rewarding when Sunwoo palms his dick with a warm hand, caressing him and making Changmin buck into his touch. Changmin has grown addicted to this – to the way Sunwoo's hand feels on him when he cups his balls, wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, flicks his wrist so slowly Changmin feels like he is having an out of body experience. But it’s even better, he thinks, when Sunwoo roughs it up a little, tugs on his cock with harsh and rapid movements to bring him to full hardness.

It feels insane, Changmin muses, how quickly Sunwoo has learned to map his body with his hands, with his mouth, has learned how to push all his buttons in all the right ways and then more. Changmin doesn’t consider himself an open book, wouldn’t be able to read his own pages if he tried, wouldn’t be able to tell his sense of self and worth if he wanted, but Sunwoo—

Sunwoo makes him feel like the easiest book to read, like he is worth the time taken to decipher, and Changmin leans into the feeling of being wanted like he was born for it.

Sunwoo pulls his hand away only long enough for him to spit into his palm, and when he takes Changmin in his hold again the slide of his hand is far less rough, the sensation of his now slick palm rubbing over his cockhead and mixing saliva with precum making Changmin moan his name into his mouth.

Changmin untangles his fingers from Sunwoo's hair and brings them down to Sunwoo's jeans, blindly unbuttoning his pants and urging it down and past his ass. Sunwoo breaks the kiss with a groan, a string of saliva connecting their lips until Sunwoo pushes himself on his feet and it breaks. Changmin stares him down through half-lidded eyes as Sunwoo steps out of his pants, as he wraps a hand around his own cock and strokes himself into full hardness as well as he kneels between his legs once again.

Sunwoo spits into his palm again, only this time he aligns his cock with Changmin's and wraps his hand around the both of them as best as he can, stroking them once, twice, so slow Changmin can feel his soul being ripped out of his body. His chest shakes with a moan, his hips twitching and making him fuck into Sunwoo's grasp. It makes Sunwoo moan, too, his head hanging low between his shoulders as he rocks his hips just as slowly as he works his hand.

Changmin wraps his hand around Sunwoo's, his grip so tight it almost makes his knuckles hurt and joins him in the stroking. He makes Sunwoo pick up his pace, waves of pleasure washing over him when he does, his fingers curling into the mattress with every upstroke of their hands, every rub of Sunwoo's palm over the sensitive skin of his cockhead.

Sunwoo jerks them off until their thighs shake, until he is struggling to keep himself knelt between Changmin's legs and Changmin has a hard time keeping his noises down. Changmin can feel himself getting closer to the edge when Sunwoo pulls his hand off him and he can’t help the soft whine that escapes his lips, his hand reaching out to grab him by the hip so he can grind against him.

Sunwoo doesn’t move away, keeps working his hips against Changmin in the slowest, most excruciating pace ever as he reaches up to where the mattress meets the wall. Changmin knows something better is to come – Sunwoo pulls out a pack of condom and another one of lube, and places them right next to his head, bending down to kiss Changmin again when Changmin harshly rakes his nails over the expanse of his back.

Sunwoo kisses his way down his body again, faster this time and not quite as teasing. He mouths at Changmin's hipbones, hands gentle when he holds onto his thighs and spreads his legs further apart. Changmin groans when Sunwoo's breath ghosts against his dick but Sunwoo pays it no mind, doesn’t give Changmin's cock the attention Changmin would like.

Which is fine, because Sunwoo quickly reaches for the pack of lube and rips it open with his teeth, spreading it over his fingers as he mouths at Changmin's inner thighs, bruising him ever so lightly. His finger is warm when he presses it against his rim and Changmin gasps, curling his own fingers around his thighs to bring them up to his chest.

Changmin doesn’t look down, doesn’t want to see the way he knows Sunwoo is smiling down at him when he applies enough pressure on his finger for it to breach. Instead, Changmin closes his eyes, tongue licking over his lips nervously but not quite – anticipation would be a more suitable feeling, he thinks.

And Sunwoo always preps him with so much care, like Changmin is going to break if he roughens it up a bit, like he can’t stand the thought of Changmin being in even slight discomfort. It’s laughable in a non-funny way, because Changmin hasn’t known how it feels like to be cared for in so long—too long. It drives him insane, to have Sunwoo act like he cares about him.

Changmin doesn’t entertain the thought that maybe he does. He won’t allow himself to, in the event that he will have to walk away from all this, from them, and will find himself alone like he had been all his life.

Sunwoo slides his finger all the way up to the last knuckle, gently moving it around so Changmin can get used to it. They have done this enough times for Sunwoo to know Changmin can take this and yet he doesn’t relent, works his lips over the expanse of his thighs as he tries to get Changmin to breathe easier again. And it is always like this – Changmin never realizes he is holding his breath until Sunwoo tells him to breathe.

One finger turns to two and Changmin keens, the feeling of Sunwoo slowly scissoring him open so good and yet nowhere near enough. He wills himself to relax, his mind drawing blank when Sunwoo reaches deep enough for the tips of his fingers to brush against his prostate. His jaw goes slack in a silent moan, his stomach tensing and his muscles shaking as his fingers dig into his thighs, certainly leaving crescents indents on his skin.

His reaction is enough to have Sunwoo reposition himself between his legs so he can keep on reaching deeper, trying to match the angle as he loosens him up. Changmin feels like he could scream, like he could yank Sunwoo by the hair and pull him into the harshest kiss. He doesn’t, though; with Sunwoo constantly rubbing his finger pads against his prostate over and over again, there is little he can do past panting for breath and cursing Sunwoo out loud.

When he dares look down at Sunwoo, there is a glint in Sunwoo's eyes that Changmin is growing familiar to – lust laced with need and understanding, with so much care it makes Changmin feel dizzy. Changmin rolls his hips, urging Sunwoo to keep going, give him more, and Sunwoo is always too happy to oblige.

The look on his face when he starts pushing a third finger in is so focused and sickeningly sweet Changmin has to force himself to look away, to throw his head back and slip his eyes shut so he doesn’t see any of it. He focuses on the sting of the stretch instead, focuses on the way Sunwoo makes him feel so full with his fingers and yet not at all; Changmin wants to ask for more, rolls his hips to let Sunwoo know he can take it, but his words get caught around a moan that is louder than all the other ones he’s let out thus far.

He can feel his face heat up in embarrassment, his blood boiling in his veins when he lets go of his thighs and digs his heels into the mattress. It is too much and yet he wants more, so much more, Sunwoo's name coming out breathlessly from his mouth, his entire body squirming with every slide of Sunwoo's fingers up his ass. When Sunwoo pulls out and places another soft kiss to the innermost part of his thigh, Changmin feels like he could cry in relief.

He hurriedly reaches for the condom next to his head, his chest heaving as he sits up and tries to get his sight to focus on the boy in front of him. Sunwoo is gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous, even with sweat beading at his hairline and his face flushed with clear desire, his lips red from kissing every inch of Changmin's body.

Changmin is quick to rip the condom open and roll it on Sunwoo's cock, drinking up the way Sunwoo moans unabashedly the second Changmin glides his fingers all the way down to the base, making sure the condom fits. And then he pulls Sunwoo into a kiss, hands cupping his cheeks and bringing Sunwoo down with him as he lays back on the mattress. He wraps his legs around Sunwoo's waist and pulls him close, and Sunwoo has to steady himself with a hand next to his head to stop himself from toppling over.

Changmin kisses him as Sunwoo presses the tip of his cock against his rim, kisses him as he starts pressing in and the pressure is enough to breach. Sunwoo kisses him back even as he gasps, as he struggles for air at the stretch Sunwoo's cock gives that his fingers could never. It makes pleasure run thick in his blood, his ankles dig into Sunwoo's lower back and urge him forward.

But Sunwoo takes his time, as he always does. He gives Changmin enough time to adjust to the stretch and then some, rolling his hips almost unnoticeably so, kissing him deeply. Sunwoo whispers words of praise against his lips, words that Changmin always has a hard time registering but knows they are all variations of _you’re so good._

It makes Changmin feel like maybe, somehow, he belongs here. In this basement, into Sunwoo's arms, being fucked into this well-used, old mattress. On difficult days when Chanhee can’t so much as hold his hand, Sunwoo makes sure to tell him he is okay, that he has a purpose, that he is more than what they could have ever wished for. And at the end of the day, even if it is a lie, Changmin wants to believe him.

When the world seems to be against them, he wants to feel like he belongs.

Sunwoo pulls him away from his thoughts with a roll of his hips and a moan into his mouth, burying himself to the hilt deep in his ass. Changmin groans, trying to adjust his hips so Sunwoo's hipbones don’t dig uncomfortably into his ass and it only makes Sunwoo's cock slide deeper into him.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, kissing the corner of Sunwoo's mouth, trying to catch his breath. “You can move.”

And Sunwoo does – always does, always so good for him, pulling his cock back halfway and sliding back in ever so slowly, ever so gently. Changmin moans, softly, cards his fingers through Sunwoo's hair and kisses him again, deeper, licks into his mouth when Sunwoo pulls all the way back, until his cockhead catches around the rim. When he fucks into Changmin again it is harder this time, the soft sound of his hips slapping against Changmin's cheeks echoing through the otherwise empty room.

Changmin gets lost into it; for the first time in too long, he allows his mind to stop wandering and focus on the moment, on the way Sunwoo's cock feels sliding against his walls even through the layer of latex, of the way Sunwoo's breath feels on his face as they kiss, the way his hands feel on his body where he grips him. And Changmin finds he loves this – loves all of this, the way Sunwoo makes him feel, how bad Sunwoo wants to make him feel like he belongs.

He goes slow until he doesn’t. Sunwoo picks up his pace rather quickly, clearly impatient himself but never rough. He fucks Changmin until Changmin is moaning his name and nothing else, Changmin's eyes squeezed shut as Sunwoo latches onto his neck and marks him red and purple.

It is in moments like this Changmin swears he sees nirvana, if that even exists. It’s when Sunwoo realigns his hips and fucks him deeper, when he fucks right into his prostate and he can see stars behind his closed lids and his entire body seems to curl into itself. It is when Sunwoo spills words of praise into his mouth, over and over again, when he tells Changmin how beautiful he is.

And Changmin feels the pressure in his chest building up just as quickly as his orgasm, so overwhelming he hardly feels like he can breathe. He reaches between their bodies, wraps his fingers around his cock and starts jerking himself off to the sound of Sunwoo's whispered words and the echoes of skin against skin. It only takes him a few tugs for everything to come crashing down on him.

He comes with Sunwoo's name on his lips and his mind elsewhere, his muscles tightening as he spills thick over his fingers and his stomach. It hits him shortly after his orgasm does – the wetness on his cheeks, the tightening of his chest, the hiccup that comes so hard it almost feels like his ribcage is being shattered to pieces.

Sunwoo slows down to a gentler pace, fucking Changmin through his orgasm and his tears. He kisses the corner of Changmin's now wobbly lips, kisses his cheeks, his closed lids, kisses his tears away as they come and come and _come,_ as does he. Sunwoo comes wordlessly, a soft grunt pressed right into Changmin's temple as he fills up the condom.

The warmth and the near overstimulation don’t feel nearly as overwhelming as his mind does, and before Changmin can start pushing him away, Sunwoo pulls out without a word. Changmin turns on his side, his hand and chest sticky as he curls into himself and cries into the mattress. And instead of walking out and giving him space, Sunwoo curls into his back, presses his lips against Changmin's shoulder and wraps his arm around his middle.

Changmin feels gross, wants to tell Sunwoo not to do it, but he finds himself having gone mum. He can’t seem to talk over the turmoil in his head, can’t seem to ease off the shaking of his hands. Sunwoo holds him close and waits – waits until his sobbing goes down, even if just barely, until he no longer shakes, until he turns around on his own and buries his face into Sunwoo's bare chest.

And even then Sunwoo doesn’t say anything until Changmin feels ready; patient, understanding, everything Changmin feels like he doesn’t deserve. His tears don’t go away easily; hell, he doesn’t even remember when was the last time he cried, let alone like this. Sunwoo cards his fingers through his hair, softly, gently, buries his nose into his hair and breathes him in.

“You need to give him some time,” Sunwoo's voice is rough when he speaks, his tone barely above a whisper. “Give him time, and space, and if he wants—when he feels ready, he will come to us.”

Changmin knows this, of course he does, but it doesn’t make the impact of changes any easier.

“He’s here, with us,” Sunwoo continues, lifting his head by the chin. Changmin doesn’t want to look at him, not right now, but he still does. He is met with sincerity in Sunwoo's eyes, and it makes his heart clench that much harder. “And you’re here, too. You belong here, with us. This is your place in life, you know. If you want it to be.”

And he wants it to be. God, he wants it to be so, so bad but he is so, so afraid. Afraid of losing it all, just like he did so many times before. A small voice in the back of his head tries telling him this time things are going to be different – that maybe, this time, things are going to work out in his favor.

He has a really hard time believing it.

Sunwoo excuses himself briefly, throwing a shirt on before making his way out of the room. And Changmin lays there, in the dim light, willing his tears to a soft sniffling until Sunwoo comes back with a wet towel and a bottle of water. He takes the water with a shaky smile, his eyes slipping shut once again when Sunwoo starts toweling his body clean of bodily fluids.

He knows he still has to shower, but if he can stay here in their quiet bubble for a while longer, then he will.

It feels like hours later, when he starts drifting off, Sunwoo's back against the wall and Changmin's head in his lap, that the door clicks open and shut again. Changmin struggles to keep his eyes open – through the thick layer of sleep in his eyes and the fog in his brain, he can see Chanhee's lithe figure approaching the mattress with careful steps.

Changmin wants to speak – to say something, greet him, but his tongue is heavy in his mouth, his throat having gone completely dry. Sunwoo stays as silent as he does, like Chanhee is going to run off if he so much as opens his mouth. So they just watch him – watch him get into the mattress and crawl over to them.

And when Chanhee presses himself against Changmin's back, wrapping his arm around his waist much like Changmin had done to him the first night he got here, Changmin feels like he could cry all over again. This time, however, he doesn’t; he feels a small smile pull the corners of his lips up as he buries his face deeper into Sunwoo's thigh, his heart beating minutely in his chest.

He feels more than he hears Chanhee whisper something against his back, too deep into almost sleep to make sense of the words he is saying. But he thinks it is okay; maybe Chanhee will say it again in the morning, or he will ask Sunwoo what it was about.

Right now, all he cares about is that he has Chanhee pressed against his back and Sunwoo's fingers playing with his hair. And as he falls asleep, the easiest he has in a really long time, Changmin starts feeling like he finally belongs.

🔥

Jacob gathers all of them in the common area one late night, spreading a map of the city over the table, his brows closely knitted together. Kevin and Juyeon look just as stern, and while no one else seems to know what this is about, they know it must be something serious. Jacob hasn’t summoned all of them at once ever since the day they were out to get Chanhee back – it has been weeks, months maybe.

Changmin wouldn’t be able to tell.

Day after day, night after night, the world seems to have fallen into a quiet standstill. It feels unsettling for the most part, to not hear life happening outside, not even the quiet patter of rainfall against the pavement or broken windows. It is something Changmin grew up with, had learned how to deal with, but now finds entirely unnatural; his life seems to have done a one-eighty from what it used to be, and he still can’t wrap his head around it.

“Chanhee approached me a couple weeks ago,” Jacob starts, crossing his arms over his chest, “saying he could give us our next target. I didn’t believe him at first,” Jacob's eyes flit from the map to Chanhee, lingering for a few seconds before flitting back down to the map. “I didn’t _want_ to believe him at first, but I’ve been talking about it with the others and it turns out that he is telling the truth.”

When Changmin turns to look at Chanhee, standing right next to him, Chanhee swallows thickly. His fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt for a few seconds before he steps forward, clears his throat and puts his finger down on the map. All eyes turn from him to the map once again, and Changmin can’t help but wonder what it is that he is pointing at.

“There is a house right here,” Chanhee's voice is small and completely devoid of emotion, his eyes unwavering as he stares down at his own finger, “that I was taken to on multiple occasions. The things that happened there, it keeps me awake at night—it makes me feel so disgusting that I don’t even know how I’m able to live with myself.” Chanhee heaves a sigh, retracting his finger and crossing his arms over his chest. “In any case, that’s where the mayor lives.”

“Are you sure about that?” Eric asks, like Chanhee would ever have a reason to lie about something like this.

“We’ve been taking turns screening the area,” it’s Kevin who answers, “with the others. The whole street is pretty guarded and it’s hard to not be seen in such a place, but it’s manageable.”

“We would never be able to pull it off on our own,” Juyeon adds, “so Jacob has been asking for backup. The problem is that they seem to know our every move, as you might have noticed from the radio transmissions, and so we are definitely to expect reinforced security whenever we decide it’s time.”

Jacob nods. “Chanhee is the only one who knows his way inside, so we’ll need him with us. I need all of you to prepare for this, and have it in your consciences that we’re either succeeding or we’re dying. If we succeed, this is our chance to reclaim everything as our own.”

“Okay,” Sunwoo says with a nod. “Let’s do this.”

The days leading up to it, Changmin feels like they are preparing to go to war; they are, in a way, though he tries not to let it get to his head. Tensions are so high in the air that it feels almost palpable, and while they don’t seem to chatter as often, with each of them dealing with their own internal struggles, he still feels they have, somehow, bonded closer together. They are at a point they don’t need to talk much – they never did, really, but it is even more so now.

Time moves, people change, and Changmin finds himself being able to adapt to everything quicker than he used to. He watches Chanhee change yet again – watches him become a little more like his old self, though not quite. Chanhee transforms under the constant praises he and Sunwoo shower him with, under the knowledge that he is in control of his own life now, that his beauty and his vanity are his to reclaim, that he can use it as his weapon if he wants to.

And while Chanhee never did stop being beautiful, to Changmin, he gets even more so when he seems to realize that himself – when the bottomless abyss in his eyes is replaced by the burning flames of anger and hatred. He seems surer of himself and the things he wants, seems more comfortable with the people around him, more willing to open up. It almost feels like he is starting to thrive in the face of adversity.

Two nights before the set date, Jacob and Juyeon come back to the shelter hours later than they were supposed to. Kevin is almost chewing on the concrete walls out of anxiety when the familiar rhythmic pattern is knocked on the door, and while Eric hadn’t shown himself as concerned, he is the one who is quick on his feet to unlatch the locks and open up for them. The two meet the others with sweat beading at their hairlines and flamethrowers piled up in their arms.

The countdown to D-day is spent with them huddled together in the common area, learning how to use and fix the flamethrowers when needed, filling up fuel tanks and storing them away. Changmin can feel his fingertips tingle whenever they run over the metal barrels and handles, his eyelid lightly twitching when he grazes over the trigger. Sunwoo catches him every time – stops him from unintentionally setting fire to their only place of shelter and what little they can call their own.

The most exciting thing about all this, Changmin thinks, is that Chanhee seems to be just as fascinated as he is.

When the night comes, they split up just like they did before, moving in the shadows of night, blood boiling in their veins. Changmin is thrilled – excited at the prospect of seeing better days, too little care over the possibility of dying whilst fighting for it. The flamethrower is heavy where it hangs from his back, but it doesn’t deter him from pushing forward.

Despite having studied the city map until its ways were burned into their brains, they still let Chanhee lead the way; it only makes sense, seeing as he is the only one who has been into the house before. Sunwoo follows them closely behind, making sure no one is tracking them, more attentive than Changmin and Chanhee could ever be. It doesn’t take long until they find themselves rounding the final corner, hiding behind a line of cars as they closely watch the security standing guard along the way.

Jacob brings a finger up to his lips and motions for them to be quiet; Changmin holds his breath, staring up at the otherwise deserted street, waiting. After a few beats, Jacov points up the street, silently telling them to watch. And so Changmin does; at first, he doesn’t know what he is waiting for, but then he sees it.

A black, unlicensed car rounds up a corner, its headlights off as it slows down. Changmin can’t see the people inside it, but he can see the barrel of guns pointing out from the passenger side’s windows, and then it happens. It feels almost shocking, the way gunshots are fired straight into each security guard’s skulls with horrific precision, taking them down one by one as the car rolls down the street.

It rolls to a stop right next to them, and Changmin feels like he can’t breathe. He reaches for the flamethrower, holds it tightly in his hands, ready to fire if need be – but then Jacob fixes his stance, like he is ready to go, and before Changmin can even think anything of it, the doors to the black car open.

Four men filter out from it, firearms in hands and faces concealed just like their own as they firmly nod at Jacob. Changmin almost doesn’t notice it at first – with his eyes trained on the tallest boy with piercing eyes that Changmin knows he has seen before, there isn’t much else he notices about them. He barely has time to register it – Jacob starts commanding them up and forward, and then they are on the move with no time for chatter.

One of the boys shoots down the gate for them, quickly and wordlessly, and Chanhee gives him a quick bow before leading them in. The property is as big as the manor they got Chanhee from, maybe bigger if Changmin really thinks about it, but they move faster than they did before. There is no thinking, no pause to activate lighters, only their fingers twitching over the trigger, ready to set everything on fire.

They only slow down once their feet are on the front porch, with Chanhee taking a deep breath as his hand hovers over the front door handle. Sunwoo approaches him quietly; with a light pat on his shoulder, he passes Chanhee the extra flamethrower he had been carrying all the way. When Chanhee turns to him, the bottomless look in his eyes is back, his face void of any trace of emotion.

“You got this,” Sunwoo whispers, offering him a light nod when Chanhee takes the flamethrower from his hands, stepping back to give him space.

Chanhee inspects the object in his hands for a second, eyes flitting to Sunwoo and holding his gaze a while longer. “The safe is in the study room,” he quietly says before pushing the door open, and then they are plummeted right into action.

This time, there is no music blasting through the house, no loud chatter and laughter of an ongoing party. Changmin's eyes scan the room before them: expensive carpets, timeless sculptures bathed in gold, furniture so expensive he couldn’t ever even dream of owning. He is deaf to his surroundings – he doesn’t register the footfalls of the others spreading through the house, the hushed whispers of commands to make it quick.

And before he even realizes it himself, he pulls the trigger and sets the fire off. There is something about the way his skin buzzes when the flames lick the cushions of a seat right in front of him and burns it down to ashes that he knows should be disturbing but isn’t. There is something about the way he feels adrenaline and unadulterated joy running down his spine when he lifts his gaze and meets eyes with Chanhee for the briefest of seconds before Chanhee, too, pulls his own trigger and sets the flames off.

Everything comes back at once. There are no alarm bells going off in his head when he starts hearing the screaming, only Jacob's commands in the very back of his head: leave no trace, leave no witness. That is exactly what he does; with Chanhee on his tail, they weave their way into the house, with Chanhee telling him where to go, making sure to burn everything to the ground.

He can hear gunshots being fired, and for a second he worries one of them might be hurt. They don’t have time to stop; while there is something terrifying about watching someone being burned alive, Changmin knows he is too far gone to care. He thinks about the shitty life he has been living all these years instead, thinks about his mother who didn’t get to choose if she lived or not, thinks of all the times he has been hurt just for trying to survive.

Changmin had decided, long ago, that none of these people deserve any of the things that they have if they are ruining everyone’s lives over it. And while he knows how ironic it sounds, that they are ruining these very people’s lives to the benefit of their own kind, this is much more than just that. This is their reclaim of power for the bettering of their own world; it should be unfortunate that others have to die for all this to happen, but he knows it isn’t when so many of their own are no longer alive to see any of this unravel.

 _If it’s what you gotta do to survive,_ Chanhee had told him once. Changmin finds he hasn’t regretted anything ever since.

The house is entirely embedded in flames when Jacob yells at them to get out. It all feels like déjà vu from then on – the nonstop running down the streets until their lungs burn and their feet hurt. Only, this time, Changmin feels bursts of laughter bubbling up his chest, manic, and he doesn’t hold it back.

Chanhee, keeping up with him, starts laughing too, and it is then that Changmin knows that this is right.

Unlike the previous time, however, Changmin now sees the city change before his very eyes. Much like the mayor’s house, different points of the city are being set ablaze on either side of the river. And then he hears it – the familiar siren of another announcement, blaring through the public speakers spread throughout the city.

Once again, Changmin holds his breath.

_F.E.A.R. will round up these rebels - these deviants, these so-called wild ones._

_We will litter the streets with their bones and annihilate the dangerous and obtuse ideas poisoning your children, endangering your freedom, giving rise to the destruction of the benevolent future we have prepared for you._

_You belong to the shadows, and the shadows are where you will remain safe._

_Do not disobey._

The voice claims as they run, _and run, and run,_ like omnipresent eyes that watch their every move. Changmin can hear his heart pounding in his ears.

Jacob leads them to a warehouse instead of straight back to the shelter, urging them inside right as the transmission ends. The space is dark, though not as dark as their basement level home, and not nearly as empty as well.

Parked not far from the entrance, Changmin sees the car that had come to their aid not long ago, the four boys that had likely made themselves present unloading several guns and ammo from the trunk and organizing them back on the several shelves that decorate the space. It is a lot to take in – the piles of guns and _money,_ so much fucking money Changmin didn’t think he would ever see in his life.

It is then that it hits him – that these are the others they have been talking about, the rebels, _the wild ones,_ joining them in the revolution that had been quiet up until this very night.

Changmin feels almost stunned as he watches them move; one of them walk all the way to the back, to where what looks like a small radio station is set up. Jacob walks up to him without faltering in his step, handing his own flamethrower to the boy with the piercing eyes Changmin is weirdly familiar with, though he still can’t remember from where. Jacob pushes a few buttons, and when the lights go red, the other boy starts to speak.

“We are the bastard sons of your media culture; our minds, eyes and bodies were born of your exclusion. An illusion you hide behind – you don’t love a god.” Changmin hears his voice echoing outside, from the speakers the announcement had sounded from. The boy doesn’t hesitate. “You love your comfort. To you we are filth, we are dirty—so be it. We are dirty and unclean, a congregation of the unseen. Together, we will set this world on fire.”

He turns the radio off, and they wait with bated breath.

“And so, we meet again,” comes a voice from behind him and Changmin startles, finger almost pulling the trigger on his flamethrower once again. He turns to look at the boy, and then it hits him. Standing there, hand outstretched for him to take, is, undoubtedly, the bartender from the pub he first saw Chanhee at. “Younghoon.”

Chanhee, Kevin and Sunwoo look just as shocked to see him there, though they don’t seem nearly as shaken. It takes Changmin a solid minute to register everything, and then another for him to take Younghoon’s hand in his. Younghoon’s eyes are intense as he watches him, a complete one-eighty from how warm the smile that stretches across his face is.

“That’s Sangyeon,” Younghoon motions at the boy conversing in hurried whispers with Jacob by the station, then at the other two organizing the shelves, “and those are Hyunjae and Haknyeon. Welcome to the revolution.”

Changmin doesn’t have nearly enough time to take everything in.

“We need to go,” Jacob's voice echoes through the warehouse, quick on his step as he walks up to them, “for now. But we will be back,” a smile settles on his lips, and Changmin feels a shiver run down his spine. “This is only the beginning, after all.”

As they slip back into the night and into the shadows, Changmin feels bursts of excitement in his chest being set off like firecrackers in the quietest night. Only, there is no more quiet, no calm to accompany any of it; there is now joy and the sound of a brand new world opening up before them. He feels his eyes well up and his throat tighten, a broad smile on his lips when he glances back and sees Sunwoo and Chanhee trailing right behind him.

It is a foreign feeling for him, to feel so much when he had been so used to not feeling anything past the ache in his bones. To feel like all this had been worth fighting for, like the people who took him in are more than strangers with a name to go with their faces, like living is maybe better than dying. It is all so much, _too much,_ and Changmin jumps into all of it headfirst, fearless.

The world is theirs, now. There is nothing for him to fear anymore.

It is a while after they get back into their shelter, long after they have showered and laughed the hysteria off, that Changmin finds himself back in his room – _their_ room, with Chanhee's arms thrown around his neck and the biggest smile on his lips as he pulls Changmin into a kiss. It almost feels like this is the first time they are kissing; the rush of adrenaline is the same, the way his head spins, the way he so easily opens up for him.

Chanhee doesn’t kiss him tender. Instead, he kisses Changmin with urgency, like Changmin is going to slip through the cracks of his fingers if he doesn’t hold him tight and kisses him deep. And then there is Sunwoo, pressing himself against Chanhee's back, kissing his neck with the tenderness that both Chanhee and Changmin lack, and all it does is make Chanhee moan right into Changmin's mouth.

They fit so perfectly together Changmin has a hard time remembering how life used to be before them. Which is okay, he thinks, the memories of a life without them fading into empty blurs in the back of his frayed brain.

As Chanhee breaks the kiss and turns his head to kiss Sunwoo, the sirens start again. This time, there is no one standing at the radio to turn it up or off. As the now familiar voice starts speaking, Changmin slips his hands into Chanhee's shirt, pressing his lips right at the base of his neck.

_We are not interested in the possibility of defeat, not within the silence of a deserted alley, nor the clamor of a crowded street._

_F.E.A.R. cannot be vanquished, we cannot be destroyed._

Changmin sinks to his knees, dragging Chanhee's shirt up and kissing his stomach softly, right above his navel, making Chanhee shiver under his touch. He can’t help but smile against his skin and kiss his way down, down until his lips meet the hem of Chanhee's sweats. Changmin curls his fingers into the fabric and tugs it down until it pools at Chanhee's feet.

_F.E.A.R. will rise up again and control the masses, take back the power and crush the insurgent hoard._

_As war fades into the distant memories of enlightened pigs and open wounds, the Rebels will begin to perish – one by one._

Changmin mouths at the outline of Chanhee's cock, pleasure zipping straight to his dick when Chanhee moans into Sunwoo's mouth, his knees threatening to give way. Changmin runs his palms up and down Chanhee's thighs, runs them back to his ass and pushes Chanhee forward and into his face. He runs his tongue flat along the length of Chanhee's dick, stopping right at his cockhead, where precum stains through the fabric.

He tugs Chanhee's underwear down, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping him once, twice, basking in every little noise Chanhee lets out. He closes his fingers right under the crown, thumbing at the slit and smearing precum over the sensitive skin. When he leans in and presses his lips to the head, Chanhee's fingers weave through his hair, tugging on him so tightly his scalp tingles.

_They should feel the fear of dying young, not ignore the chance to scream; lie awake at night in terror, admitting F.E.A.R. will return to glory and the story of Rebels who set out to conquer will finish in blood._

Chanhee tugs on his hair until he is back on his feet, pulling him into another kiss and pushing him back until they fall onto the mattress. There is a giggle that bubbles up his chest that Changmin can’t avoid, his hands framing Chanhee's face as he pulls back to look at him. Chanhee is beautiful – with a pink flush coloring his cheeks, with pupils blown, with his now ink black hair framing his face as he stares down at him.

And then Chanhee smiles, too, so wide and genuine Changmin feels like he could burst.

Chanhee moves to the side and barely out of the way when Sunwoo bends down to kiss Changmin as well, and Changmin can feel all his heart being poured into it. The difference is so contrasting and so good, makes him feel like he is high on endorphins, like this is all he ever needed.

Sunwoo moves off them and Changmin knows it is to reach between the mattress and the wall, for the lube and condoms they have taken to keep there at all times. In the meantime, Chanhee gets his hands to work, shedding Changmin of every piece of clothing he has on until there is nothing left. Changmin can feel his face warm up at the way Chanhee looks down at him with so much reverence in his eyes, his hands running over every expanse of bare skin, feeling him up.

When he moves back, Sunwoo positions himself behind Chanhee, hand pressed on the small of his back and pushing him down until Chanhee lies on top of him. Changmin kisses him again, again and again, kisses him as Sunwoo presses a lubed finger against his rim and starts stretching him open. He kisses Chanhee even as Chanhee moans, trying to ease the discomfort and get his mind off it.

Chanhee struggles to kiss him back when Sunwoo adds another finger and scissors him open, gasping with every press of Sunwoo's fingers inside him. Changmin drops his hands from where they cup Chanhee's face down to his waist, snaking his arms around him and hugging him impossibly close. Chanhee seems to still, but only briefly; his moaning grows exponentially louder when Changmin runs his palms down his back and to his ass, spreading his cheeks further apart.

Two fingers turn to three and Chanhee almost cries out, pleas rolling off his tongue like a prayer, begging for them to hurry up and fuck him. Changmin kisses him again, an attempt to shut him up when Sunwoo quietly hushes him from behind, bending down to press his lips against Chanhee's shoulder over his shirt.

Sunwoo is never one to rush the process of prepping them, never wanting to cause them any discomfort, but tonight everything seems to play a bit differently. Sunwoo pulls his fingers out not long after Chanhee starts begging him to, gently pushing Chanhee off Changmin so he can roll a condom on his cock. Changmin groans, bucking into the tight ring of his fingers around him as Sunwoo rolls the latex down to the base.

Sunwoo, ever so patient, guides Chanhee until he is pressing down on Changmin's cock, sitting back until his ass is flush against Changmin's lap. Changmin feels like he can’t breathe, Chanhee's walls too fucking tight around him, his fingers trembling as he holds onto Chanhee's hips. They both still and wait; through half-lidded eyes, Changmin watches as Sunwoo slips out of his clothes in a hurry, rolling on a condom on his own dick before positioning himself behind Chanhee once again.

It is when he feels the press of fingers alongside his cock that Changmin realizes what is going on; it is only a beat later than Chanhee does, the moan that comes out of Chanhee’s mouth broken when Sunwoo presses against his rim again. Changmin can’t even begin to fathom what the added stretch feels like, and there isn’t much he can do other than hold Chanhee close and kiss up his neck and his jaw, licking into his mouth tenderly.

“Breathe,” Sunwoo says and Changmin can’t imagine how that would ever be possible when he himself can barely do it. Chanhee whines, his head dropping on Changmin's shoulder and his chest shaking as he tries to take deep enough breaths. Sunwoo hums, pleased, sliding his fingers further in. “There you go.”

Changmin feels like he is going to pass out when Chanhee starts to move. It’s just how tight he feels with the added pressure of Sunwoo's fingers that drives him on the edge of insane, his thighs shaking from the effort of trying not to move and allowing Chanhee to set a pace of his own. Chanhee mouths at his neck all the while, his hips moving in such meek circles it is barely there. But it _is_ there, and Changmin feels _all of it._

“Fuck,” Chanhee groans, pushing himself up and splaying his palms on Changmin's bare chest. His eyes slip tightly shut as he pants. “Oh my _fucking god.”_

Changmin reaches up with trembling fingers, pushes his hair away from his face and smiles up at him when Chanhee opens his eyes again. “Hey, it’s okay,” he says, voice rough as it has ever been, he himself struggling to breathe. “You’re okay.”

Chanhee leans into his touch, pressing his lips into his palm as he rises on his knees and sits back down on his cock again. Changmin presses his thumb against Chanhee's lower lip, his jaw going slack when Chanhee parts up and takes the finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as he suckles on it. He doesn’t manage to keep it up for long; soon enough, Chanhee collapses on his chest again, heavy breathing and thighs shaking.

Sunwoo runs his free hand over Chanhee's back, a clear attempt to soothe him, pushing his shirt up until it bunches under his armpits. Changmin watches him bend down and trail kisses along his spine, one more tender than the other, his fingers brushing over Changmin's. The two of them make eye contact for a split second, and Changmin is thankful he isn’t too far gone to understand what Sunwoo's small nod is supposed to mean.

Sunwoo kisses his way up Chanhee's body until his lips ghost right under his earlobe. Changmin feels him pulling his fingers out, and right as Chanhee starts to whine, Sunwoo says, “I need you to take deep breaths and relax.” His tone is stern but soothing. “Can you do that for me?”

Chanhee nods, frantic, nosing along Changmin's jaw as he tries to even out his breathing. Sunwoo squeezes Changmin's hand before moving to position himself, and Changmin only has a split second to hold tight onto Chanhee's hips before Sunwoo starts pressing his dick against his. Chanhee's moan is a scream that rolls out unfiltered, and Changmin finds he can’t hold himself back either, his vision spotting white at the pressure.

Changmin feels like he is catching a fever with how hot his body is running. He can feel Chanhee's body strung tight, runs his hands up and down his sides in an attempt to get him to relax just a little further. Sunwoo doesn’t move for a while; Chanhee's heavy breathing is audible even over his low moaning, his chest shaking and his walls clenching every time he breathes out.

When Changmin reaches up to lift Chanhee's head and get a good look at him, he sees the tears beading at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill. He coos softly at him, running the pads of his fingers over the unshed tears, drying them up before they even stain his skin. Chanhee sniffles softly, takes another deep breath and Changmin feels him relax around his cock, allowing Sunwoo's to slide further up into him.

Sunwoo groans, stopping when he knows they are at Chanhee's limit, bending down to kiss his shoulder again. Chanhee turns his head enough so they can kiss, and it makes Changmin moan ever so softly with the way they both move around his cock. He digs his nails into Chanhee's flesh, marking him up as he tries to keep still.

When they part, saliva connects Chanhee's lips to Sunwoo's, though it quickly breaks when Sunwoo leans over and kisses Changmin again. Their bodies are running too hot; the room is too hot, makes him dizzy when Sunwoo pulls his cock back even the slightest, fucking into Chanhee so slow it feels like time isn’t running at all. And then Chanhee moans,

 _“Please,”_ almost breathless, and Sunwoo never needs to be told twice.

Changmin, trapped under the weight of their bodies, has no room to move when Sunwoo starts fucking into Chanhee, rolling his hips in a steady rhythm. Chanhee pushes himself off Changmin's chest just enough that he can reach between their bodies, hand wrapping around his own cock and jerking himself off at the same pace Sunwoo fucks him.

“Come here,” Changmin whispers, and Chanhee doesn’t hesitate to bend down and kiss him again as Changmin replaces his hand with his own.

He can feel Chanhee's cock twitching in his hold, moans being spilled into his mouth that he swallows too eagerly. He can already feel the familiar coiling in his stomach, can feel the buzz that runs through his body and numbs his toes and fingertips. He can almost taste it in Chanhee's heavy tongue, the buildup of his orgasm and how hard it is going to hit him with the added pressure of Sunwoo's cock alongside his.

Sunwoo picks up his pace, the sound of his hips smacking Chanhee's ass echoing loud in the room, mixed with their moaning and soft whimpering, the feeling of his balls constantly hitting the base of his cock almost too much for Changmin to handle. The pace is sloppy at best, of both the thrusting and the flicking of Changmin's wrist, and Changmin doesn’t think he can hold out much longer than this.

But then Sunwoo pulls out without warning, and when Changmin looks at him over Chanhee's shoulder, he sees Sunwoo rip the condom off his dick and discard it somewhere on the floor. Changmin is about to scold him for it when Sunwoo leans forward and, with a hand pressed on the small of Chanhee's back, starts quickly jerking himself off. Chanhee, unaware of what is going on, can only moan and whine at the loss until Changmin starts thrusting into him, languid and messy and feeling himself going into overdrive at the sight before him.

Sunwoo comes with a low grunt and a curse, spilling over his fingers and onto Chanhee's back. Chanhee moans loudly at the feeling, and Changmin isn’t far behind when Sunwoo's spunk trickles down Chanhee's ass and to his cock, so warm the coiling in his stomach almost immediately snaps. Changmin lifts Chanhee up and off him, pacifying his whining with a deep kiss as he pulls the condom off his dick.

He repositions Chanhee so their cocks align, and the touch alone almost tips Changmin over the edge. He wraps his hands around both their cocks, thrusting into his hold so they slide together. Chanhee's moaning grows louder as he starts rolling his hips, clearly feeling just as desperate to get off as Changmin feels. It is when Sunwoo lies down next to them to pull them into kisses that Changmin feels it.

It happens almost too fast. His orgasm hits him too quick and too hard, makes his body shake as he spills over Chanhee's cock and his fingers. Chanhee comes right after, with a string of curse words that Sunwoo swallows down with a hard kiss. Changmin doesn’t stop the rolling of his hips until they both stop coming, and when he does, Chanhee all but collapses on top of him, completely spent.

Changmin doesn’t know at which point he dozes off. He feels tired, elated, like he is high on cloud nine and could never come back down. It feels like everything happens in glimpses – Sunwoo cradling him close, Chanhee snuggling up to him, the feeling of being so whole for the first time in his life he feels entirely overwhelmed by it.

And even if he still doesn’t know the difference between like and love, could never be able to tell what perfection looks like, Changmin thinks this is as close as it gets.

As the sun starts to rise outside and they fall deep into sleep, in the eye of the greatest storm, the rebels rise to glory from the ashes, and a new world is reborn.

_This is to be our final transmission._

_The rebels have defeated our illustrious armies – they have damaged our intention of ugly and defiant malevolence._

_All that we love and care for will sink into the abyss of a new dark age made more sinister and perhaps more protracted by the light of perverted science and rebellion._

_The whole root and heavy core will perish in starving captivity._

_You will never win your freedom._

_You cannot escape F.E.A.R._

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to say my thanks at the beginning as i usually do, but didn't really find the space for it. so, here you have it! first of all, huge thanks to max, for ranting in my messages and giving me the brilliant idea that was to write this fic, and make me realize that i had finally something to write that whole album about. 13 year old me would be really proud of myself for seeing such a fic be put out in the world. thank you yo my girlfriend for reading this over for me despite not even being in the fandom, you're the greatest. and last but not least, thank you to my constant support cheerleaders shauna and sudi, without whom i wouldn't have been able to get past half this storyline. thank you for hyping me up so much and helping me with opinions whenever i asked for them, you guys are the best!!!!
> 
> i've been working on this fic since august, and while it was entirely soul consuming and i couldn't work on anything else and i'm very anxious to finally have it out in the world, it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. thank you for everyone who has been patient with me while i wrote this, it really wasn't easy LOL
> 
> if you've spared a few hours of your time to read this big bitchass baby, i want to thank you a thousand times. i really hope you liked it! comments are more than welcome, but please be gentle on me
> 
> you can find me on **[twitter](https://twitter.com/changminize)** if you want to chat and be friends, and on **[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/changminize)** if you have any questions!


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